


Bodies | Geralt x Female OC

by ellexoxo



Series: Bodies [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Complete, Domestic Fluff, Dominant Geralt, Drama, F/M, Fanfiction, Fate & Destiny, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Love, Minor Character Death, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, Older Man/Younger Woman, Praise Kink, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smut, gentle geralt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22112401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellexoxo/pseuds/ellexoxo
Summary: | "People linked by destiny will always find each other." | It was only a small encounter. A White Wolf stumbles upon a kingdom north of Cintra. In need of coin and a warm place to rest his head, he accepts a simple job offer-- slay a Bruxa found lurking around the village outskirts. As a show of gratitude, the king extends an invitation to the evening gala. He locks eyes with a girl he knows he will never see again. That night, the Witcher beholds the unexpected, yet marvelous manner destiny unravels itself. Fate has a funny way of contradicting almost everything people think to be true. Part 1 of the Bodies Series
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: Bodies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591702
Comments: 56
Kudos: 398





	1. Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> After bingeing the whole first season of the Witcher (after never have been exposed to it before) and falling for Henry Cavill's portrayal of Geralt, I've been obsessed ever since. This is my first fan fiction so I'm quite nervous but I knew it was something I wanted to write about. All the background knowledge I have about the realm of the Witcher is limited to the Netflix rendition and other fanfics I've read, so this story will mostly pan out independent from the video game plots. The timeline for this story takes place a few years after Yennefer and Geralt encounter each other. Obviously, she isn't his main love interest here. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy my portrayal of Geralt and his romantic companion. I want to explore what Geralt's life could be with a person he loves. It's something I feel is a bit missing from other pieces on this site.

The Witcher’s feet stomped like earthquakes against the marble floor of the royal palace. The shiny, white columns and crystal chandeliers glimmered with a stark contrast to the dark leather and armor adorning the Witcher’s body. He approached the king, blood matted against his chest and hands. 

“I’ve slain the Bruxa,” the White Wolf announced to the man atop the throne. “They will no longer pose a nuisance nor threat to your kingdom. I expect the rest of the payment you owe me.” 

“So I suppose Witchers may be useful after all,” the man replied dryly. The tone was not of disgust, but merely a facade to uphold the appearance of a stringent leader. “You may join us tonight, if you so wish, to attend the royal gala.” While firm, the king was not a ruthless authoritarian. Deep down, he pitied the Witcher. 

“I hope to do nothing of the sort,” the Witcher almost scoffed. The idea of prancing around a ballroom wearing ostentatious clothing couldn’t sound anymore unappealing. He would rather take his coin and spend the evening at an inn. Or better yet, a nicer brothel given the sum of his payment. 

“Very well. Collect your coin on the way out. I will have my servants cease your bath preparations.” 

As the Witcher turned to exit the palace, his ears perked up after mention of a bath. He looked down at his soiled boots and trousers. Perhaps a hot bath in a royal palace would be the nicest accommodation he would have in a while. After all, he hasn’t seen the inside of a bathtub in ages, let alone a royal one. “On second thought, I will accept your invitation.” 

—

Jaskier tossed a myriad of bath salts and other perfumed oils into the large porcelain bathtub the Witcher had seeped into for an hour now. Clearly putting to use the king’s assortment of luxurious soaps, oils, and fragrances. 

“Can you believe it, Geralt?” Our first royal extravaganza together as a duo!” The bard grinned to himself, humming songs he planned to sing at the ball later. 

With his amber orbs closed, the Witcher only grunted in response. “Hm.” The relaxing bath he expected was now tarnished by Jaskier’s sudden interest in botanical scents.

“Oh, perk up will you? I know you’re disappointed that you wouldn’t be able to drink watered down ale at the inn down the road,”Jaskier joked. “I’m sorry that you have to muster up the courage to down the finest ale in the northern kingdoms, aged longer than my lifetime. I truly pity your predicament.” 

“Get out, Jaskier.” The Witcher scowled at the bard as he reached for the clothes laid out by the tub. Jaskier continued to ramble on, but Geralt’s only attention focused on getting dressed for the evening. Hopefully, this won’t be too bad. And if it was, at least the brothel would only be a short ride away. 

The Witcher was once again accompanied by Jaskier in the grand ballroom. After already downing four mugs of ale, the bard sang tunes of fleeting goat-devils and elven creatures living in dark caves. Per usual, the surrounding crowd had began to mock the musician and pelted him with dried pieces of bread and soured fruit. It wasn’t anything the bard couldn’t handle on his own. 

Geralt’s gaze wandered around the space the ballroom. Men and women danced, children ate happily. He couldn’t help but to frown as he sensed an aching tug of loneliness deep beneath his chest. His mind began to think of ways to slip out of the scene for a moment, at least long enough where he could visit the brothel before anyone notices his absence. 

As he took another sip of ale, he looked up once again to the table belonging to the royal family. The king and queen laughed happily, faces red from overconsumption of wine and ale. A younger man, most likely their son, scowling at a servant. He peered farther down, until his eyes met those of a young woman. 

It seemed as though she had been looking at him too. He noticed her chocolatey eyes and golden brown locks cascading down her head. The strong eyebrows framing her face and her plump lips. She wore a light pink dress, almost white, with a tight corset complementing her healthy bust and structured waist. He caught his thoughts right at that second. ‘She’s too young’, he thought. Perhaps 16 or 17 years of age. 

He closed his eyes and chuckled frustratingly to himself. Gods. 

The girl held her gaze a while longer, as if observing him with equal attention to detail. Either it was his imagination or a lighting mishap, but he swore her lips turn into a small smile and her eyes flashed a hint of mischief. 

“I would like to raise a toast,” the King stood up to raise his glass of wine. “To my daughter, Adelaide, who has reached her 18th birthday. You have grown into the finest young woman— beautiful and as sharp as a knife. One day, Adela, you will rule this land, and I know I will have left our family’s legacy in good hands.”

“Aye,” the crowd cheered. The girl smiled at her father briefly, before returning her gaze to the mysterious white-haired man. He returned her previous smile, as if a whole conversation had just been passed between them. They smirk at each other knowingly. It looks like he won’t be making it to the brothel after all.


	2. Hands

At the end of the night, princess Adelaide’s maidens escorted her back to her palace chambers. One maiden laced her bathing robe around the princess’ petite body and removed the pins from her hair while another drew her bath. Adelaide glanced at her reflection on the vanity mirror. 

“You may be dismissed,” she told the two young maidens. With a slight curtsy, the two left the princess her privacy. 

The Witcher sat in bed multiple floors below the young princess, pondering how he’d plan on seeing her. Jaskier had already been passed out in the room adjacent to his. He waited patiently for the last of the straggling guests to retire to their own rooms for the night. Most of them, he figured, would have no trouble finding sleep after their night of dancing and drinking. 

As the shuffling of feet and murmurs died down within the palace walls, the Witcher took a deep breath from his meditation. Now, he was to focus on finding the young woman who captured his attention.

The royal family had stood outside the grand double doors of the ballroom, thanking their guests for attending. As Geralt approached the family, the King shook his hand. 

“Ah, Witcher. I would like to formally introduce you to my family. This is my wife, Eden, and our two children, Adelaide and Augustus. I want to thank you once again for your services, and should we need them again, I will be in contact. Are your arrangements to your liking?” 

“Yes, thank you,” the Witcher responded as the young princess curtsied for him. The mischievous sparkle still in her eye, he made sure to catch a whiff of her hair as he walked away.

Now, he channeled his focus on that one, distinct scent of hers. Bergamot and orange blossoms. Deep in meditation, he used his Witcher senses to attempt to locate which one of these 300 or so rooms hers might be. After a deep inhale, he had finally found her. Geralt’s eyes immediately flashed towards the window. Channeling his focus to the bard’s snores for a microsecond, the Witcher had suddenly vanished into the moonlight. 

—

Carefully, I walked around the bouquets of flowers left for me by potential suitors at today’s ball. I hadn’t bothered to read the cards that came with them. As loving as my parents were, they had insisted on betrothing me to a prince from any of the neighboring kingdoms. ‘Just a formality,’ they would say. ‘This land would be yours, but your legitimacy as a ruler relies on your marriage to someone powerful.’ For a long time, I believed them. 

Not long after my 13th birthday, seven years ago today, Tissaia had arrived at our castle’s doorstep with a carriage full of gold for my family in exchange for me studying magic at Aretuza. The economy was hard back then, our people could barely manage to eat bread and infrastructure was failing. The last thing my parents wanted was to send their only daughter away.

As her carriage departed our gates, I couldn’t help but to run after her. “Wait!” I shouted. The horses stopped and Tissaia stepped carefully out of the carriage. “I will go with you.”

“Adela! Adelaide, come back right now!” My mother furiously tugged at my arm, begging me to stay with them. Her tear-stained face almost made me think twice. 

“I have to go. I want to. I will do what it takes to help our people,” I reassured her I’d come back. One last look at my home and I found myself being whisked away to Aretuza. 

My ascension as a young mage uncovered the truths to my reality as a woman. Even with magical capabilities, it seemed as though the whims of men controlled my life. This became clear when I declined the offers of kings with wandering eyes at the ceremony, when I arrived home to a line of young men my parents had gathered, and when my brother Augustus began to grow resentment against me. 

I cast a white flame to the water, heating it to my preferred temperature. I plucked the petals from the remaining roses I hadn’t yet disposed of and tossed them into the water, along with my favorite sweet orange oil, bergamot, and milk. My mind roamed to the Witcher I had encountered earlier that night and I immediately felt a shiver despite the warmth radiating from the water. 

I caught him staring at my breasts and discovered that he was actually quite handsome. Growing up, people had described Witchers as menaces with snarling teeth and demon-like eyes. As I lit the candles surrounding my vanity and porcelain bath, I couldn’t help but to think about the Witcher’s musky scent as he passed me. The artfully sculpted jawline, defined muscles, and burly hands. Most of all, my thoughts couldn’t tear apart from the image of his amber orbs burning into my brown ones. I felt the heat rise into my cheeks and lower stomach. 

As I start to disrobe myself, I hear a thud from the balcony outside my room. Instinctively, I tie the robe around myself tightly and grab a dagger from the vanity cupboards. I walked quietly, ready to defend myself against the intruder. I find him grunting as he pulls himself to his feet on the balcony, his back towards me. I raise the dagger in my hand and swing hard against the man. 

At the blink of an eye, my wrist is caught by a large, calloused hand. The daggers blade is suspended only inches from my face. My breath hitches in shock. ‘This is when I die,’ I thought. My heart thumps in my chest as I look up to the face of the intruder. All of a sudden, the cold air flushes with warmth as once again, his eyes connect with mine. 

“Woah there,” the Witcher pants. “You need to be careful with that. You might hurt yourself, princess.” I swallow the lump in my throat and my breathing returns to normal. I sigh in relief. 

“I think you need to be careful, Witcher. You might get yourself killed,” my voice regains its composure as I pull my wrist away from him and place the dagger on the nightstand. 

He chuckles deeply and my body almost vibrates at the low register his voice projects. His white hair, amber eyes, and gold medallion gleam against the moonlight. I stood there, unsure of what to do as this beautiful specimen had entered my bedroom. I suddenly felt self-conscious, aware of the silky see-through robe against my body. If the Witcher noticed the skin beneath the fabric, he didn’t show it. His eyes still bore into my face. 

“I-I apologize for the state I’m in. I was just a-about to bathe.” Fuck. I’ve never stammered like that in my life. I bit my lip as a small grin appeared on his face. 

“I suppose it will do you good. I can still hear your heartbeat racing,” he said with an edge of tease. If he could sense that, I wonder what else he would be able to pick up as I noticed the warmth in my core growing.

Swiftly, I turned away from him. “Where are my manners! Would you like some wine? Water?” I shuffled to the opposite side of the room to fetch two glasses for drinks. 

“Though I prefer ale, I will settle on a glass of wine if the princess wishes to do so herself.” 

I poured the red liquid into the glasses and handed one to the Witcher, our thumbs grazing over each other delicately. “I didn’t catch your name, Witcher.” I sipped the wine carefully, my gaze attached to his. 

“Geralt of Rivia,” he responded. The roughness and depth of his voice seemed to tranquilize me. 

“Geralt.” I repeated. His eyes flickered to my lips, a red mark now staining them. 

“Adelaide.” He inched closer and I felt his breath tickle my cheek. I couldn’t help but to notice the drastic height difference, he was easily a foot and a half taller than me. Feeling emboldened by the alcohol in the wine, I stood on my toes to plant a small kiss on his jaw. Like a magnetic attraction, his head bowed for our lips to brush against each other. “Would you like for me to accompany you to your bath? I would hate to keep you.” He whispered in my ear. Again, the bass of his voice penetrated my body deliciously. I had a feeling he could do that in more ways than one.

My hand gripped his large, muscled arms as my free hand undid the knot tying my robe together. I shrugged the soft material off my skin allowing it to pool around our feet. Geralt’s eyes wandered down my body and took this sign as a ‘yes’ to his question. My small hand wrapped around his burly ones as I led him to my bathing chambers.


	3. Hips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: smut! sorry if it's not up to par, it's my first time writing smut

My hands trembled slightly as I unbuttoned Geralt’s top. It seemed to be a size too small considering his muscles basically protruded from the seams. I’ve never really been with a man like this before. Besides the small pecks on cheeks from my suitors, I’ve never gone beyond a quick fondle. Standing before this handsome Witcher made me feel self-conscious once again. Regret started to creep up on me— what if this was a mistake? What if my inexperience kept me from pleasing him? My maidens had briefly mentioned that a Witcher’s favorite place to blow off steam were the multitudes of brothels they visited throughout their journeys. Surely, Geralt had visited plenty during his time. My mind began to race with millions of thoughts of him with other women, perhaps with bodies better than mine. What if I’m just one of them, a quick fuck? Is that what I wanted? Do I want more? Thats ludicrous, wanting to settle with a Witcher. Then what was I thinking eye-fucking him earlier at the ball?

“Adelaide,” his hands caught mine at the very last button, as if he could read my mind. “You’re beautiful.” The second his words hit my ear I felt a confidence blossom within me. 

“Do you say that to all the women you bed, Geralt?” I retorted only half jokingly. 

“Hm,” his hips turn up into a smirk again. “I don’t particularly prefer to chat during those situations.” 

“Oh,” my hands fell after undoing the last button. The fabric now gone from his frame exposed his bulging muscles and scars. 

“But for you I think I’ll make an exception. You look like you have quite a mouth on you.” I brought my hand back up to his chest, my fingers running through his rough skin and captured his lips with mine once again. He responded back roughly, his one hand cupping my cheek and the other squeezing my breast. 

Our tongues slid against each other and I could taste remnants of the red wine. Kissing him delighted me. The warmth between us grew and made me feel like a swarm of butterflies resided in my stomach. He pulled me closer to him at the waist and his hands found the curve of my ass. Geralt massaged it patronizingly, instantly making me feel a sense of naughtiness to the whole situation. My breath hitched again as his rough hands smacked against my ass, making me stumble from the sheer sting of it. So that’s how he wanted to play.

I pulled away from our kiss and dropped my hands that had been caressing his hair. I turned away from him and stepped into the hot bath, allowing the heated oils to engulf me. I sat across from where Geralt stood making sure to leave room for him. 

“Two baths in one day. Can’t say I’ve been spoiled like this before,” he removed his trousers and stepped into the porcelain tub. “Is this how you keep your skin so smooth, Adela?” He noticed the milkiness we now both shared. 

“Call it a beauty secret,” I replied and moved my body closer to his. 

He leaned against the walls of the tub and stretched his arms out, resting them along the outer rims. My lips found the crook of his neck, earning a low growl from him. I kissed and nibbled at his musky flesh, surprised at how pronounced his own scent was. Absolutely intoxicating. His hands explored my body, grabbing and squeezing at the curve of my hips and waist. My breathing became heavier against the sensations of being manhandled like this. However, I was unsure if this manhandling was on purpose, or if his roughness was just natural against my delicate frame. 

His hand struck my ass again, harder than last time and I yelped despite the wetness between my legs. “I’m sorry, Adela. Did I hurt you? We can stop now if you like,” his grasp on me softened and he looked at me with concern plastered on his perfect face. 

“No,” I shook my head and bit my lip. “I actually quite enjoy your roughness,” I admitted with a blush creeping on my cheeks. 

He smirked, satisfied at my submissive honesty. Geralt clutched me to his body again. I was so small compared to him. Suddenly I felt his member brush against my thigh. I let out a sigh and moan in response to this intimacy. 

“Shh, princess” his index finger pressed gently against my lips. “Someone might hear your little moans and get the wrong idea.” 

Enchanted by his deep voice and commands, I nodded and took his finger in my mouth. I sucked on it, pursing my lips down his long finger holding his gaze in my eyes. Geralt’s eyes looked hungry and another growl escaped from his mouth. The warm bath multiplied the sexual desire between us. Geralt drew me even closer, lifting my hips slightly above his lap. My eyes widened realizing what he was about to do. 

“Geralt!” I exclaimed with a hushed whisper and jerked backwards causing a splash of water between us. 

“What’s wrong, Adela?” He wrapped his hands around mine to comfort me and I couldn’t help but notice how loving and tender this gesture. “Tell me what’s wrong darling,” he cooed. 

“I’ve never, um,” I struggled to let the words escape my lips. A burning blush radiated from my cheeks with embarrassment. His head cocked to the side as he stroked my hair ever so gently. “I’ve never lain with a man before.” My eyes fell from his face. “I just thought you’d know before moving forward.”

To my surprise he chuckled deeply with a small smile escaping his lips. “You’re absolutely adorable, Adela.” He leaned in to kiss me passionately. 

“What do you mean?” I blurted out, unsure of his reaction.  
“Do you still want to keep doing this, princess?” I nodded sheepishly. “Tell me why you want to do this with me, of all people, a Witcher?” 

I looked up at him again enchanted by that look he gave me. “Because when I first saw you, Geralt, I felt more drawn to you than any other man I’ve been in contact with. Nothing ever felt right, until now.” 

“Hm,” he said nothing but kissed me once more before stepping from the tub. My heart immediately fell to my stomach and tears almost spilled out of my eyes. I’m a fucking moron. I just ruined everything. 

“Where are you going?” My voice cracked so quietly only a Witcher could hear. 

“To get you a towel, Adela.” He grabbed the nearest towel that had been hung by my maidens. 

“I-“ 

“Stand up,” he gently commanded. I obliged, hissing at the cool air hitting my body. He offered his hand for balance as I stepped out of the tub trying to hold back tears. Geralt wrapped the towel around my small shoulders and dried my body before wiping the dampness from his body. 

“What are you doing?”

“If we’re going to do this, princess, we’re going to do this right. On a bed. I don’t want your first time to be in a milky bath.” I was so delighted I couldn’t even speak. His strong arms carried me bridal style to my bed. 

I laid down on the silk sheets as he instructed, his touch never leaving my supple body. Geralt climbed on top, his large statute towering over me. His mouth found mine once again soon before peppering kisses down my neck, breasts, and abdomen. He gently pushed my legs apart exposing myself to him. I felt a finger run through my slick folds teasing me even more. 

“Oh, Geralt,” I moaned. 

—

The White Wolf’s husky fingers travelled back and forth the girl’s silky skin. He should have expected this given his surprise at the softness of her hands, lips, breasts, and everywhere else on her body. Watching the small girl’s squirming body under his touch hardened his member. Especially at the thought of him ravishing her from the inside. ‘Soon’, he thought. His finger dipped slightly inside her entrance, testing her resistance. This earned him a muffled yelp from the princess. He pushed deeper into her core. Knowing she was a virgin, he had to first break her inner barrier.  
Gods, she was already so tight. “It’s okay, princess,” he reassured her. “I have to break you in a bit. You’ll feel a pop inside you, that’s normal. If anything hurts you need to tell me.” Adela nodded. “Good girl.” 

His single finger traveled slowly into her cunt. Down towards her back he finally felt her inner barrier. Geralt paused for a second before pushing through it. Adela almost shrieked in response, her eyes frenzied and desperate. He shushed her once more. Geralt’s thumb circled her clit to momentarily distract her from the abrupt penetration. She moaned under him and the wetness returned. His fingers pumped in and out of her tight virgin cunt. Adela’s eyes wandered towards the Witcher’s now stiffened cock. Looking back and forth between his finger already inside of her and his member, she already began to whimper. 

“Do you like what you see?” He noticed her staring. It looked almost nine inches of pure glory. 

“Will it fit?” Her innocence tickled him. It was something he hadn’t really encountered before that night. 

“We’ll make it,” he growled into her ear. With that, she began to gush into his hands. “I think you’re ready now, Adela,” he said as he climbed on top of her. “You tell if this starts to hurt.” She said nothing. Only embraced him in return. 

Geralt rested his forehead slightly against hers. He wanted to look at her. Positioning himself at her entrance, he slid himself inside her. Right as he entered her he witnessed the princess’ loud gasp and light grimace. Geralt wasn’t even halfway in yet. Adela bit her lip hard as he pushed the rest of his cock inside her. The feeling of being filled completely and stretched was so foreign yet intoxicating to her. The princess moaned again as the tip of the Witcher’s cock finally hit her g-spot. She began to pulse her hips against his, suddenly enchanted by the feeling of this contact. 

“Eager little thing,” Geralt breathed. He started to pull out of her tightness and plummet back into her, the feeling of her resistance unlike anything he’s felt before. Her walls wrapped and locked around him as if they had become one. Geralt looked up at Adela’s face almost frozen from pleasure. She was completely unaware of what her body was doing to him. “You take me so well, princess,” He began rocking his hips back and forth, surprised at how her tightness accommodated his girth and length. The rhythm of this slow fuck made Geralt’s cock swell even more.

Adela matched his pace with her hips, fucking him back. So this is what sex is. She’s overheard her friends and maidens speak about it before, but she never thought it could be as sensual as this. “Please Geralt,” she begged him after the brief pain was replaced with immense pleasure. “Harder.”

He wasted no time to wrap his arms around her already arched back and increase the force behind his strokes. Each time his cock hitting her right where she wanted it. The both of them now letting out animalistic groans alongside the filthy slapping sound of their sex echoing through the room. Adela’s breasts bounced right in Geralt’s face, making her feel more of a slut than she had felt before. Who lets complete strangers plough them into oblivion like this? Whores, she thought. But if that’s what she was, she relished it. He captured her nipple in his mouth, sucking on her sensitive flesh. This was the wave that crashed over her. Adela couldn’t help but feel a tightness growing in her lower stomach. 

Geralt felt this immediately. Her already slim walls encased him like never before. He closed his eyes and fucked her faster and deeper than he did before. Almost relentlessly. A single tear left Adela’s eye, clearly from the overwhelming sensations in her nether regions. He kissed the tear and buried his cock deep within her, her entrance meeting the hilt. 

“Let go, princess,” she nodded and her mouth formed a small ‘O’ shape as she gushed around Geralt’s enormous cock. The princess couldn’t stop moaning, making sounds that turned the Witcher’s head delirious. 

Her vocal orgasm tipped Geralt into his own as his strokes became sloppy. His seed erupted inside her, earning him another sigh of pleasure. As Geralt pulled away his cock from her warmth, he collapsed alongside Adela. Her cunt uncontrollably milked every drop of him. She bit her lip at the sensation at the feeling of his warm cum dripping out of her raw pussy and onto her sheets. 

Both of them panted in exhaustion from their high. The princess turned to face her handsome lover, and nuzzled into the crook of his neck. They were both matted in each others sweat. As if he couldn’t get enough of her, Geralt’s fingers found her clit, his hands exploding her now deflowered pussy. 

“Taste yourself, baby girl,” his fingers slid along her tongue. The taste of both their cum in her mouth. So naughty. 

“I love it,” she panted before kissing him so he could taste the fruits of their labor. “You’re not leaving me, are you, Geralt?” A look of concern on her face. She feared he would be one of those men who slipped away in the middle of the night after an evening of love making. Of course he was guilty of this, with women who meant nothing to him. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it princess,” he murmured into her ear as he held her in a tight cuddle. Satisfied with his response, she surrendered herself to sleep to the night.


	4. Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the kudos and sweet comments! I just wanted to draw out this night a bit more to highlight the relationship dynamic between Geralt and Adela, and to really build the chemistry. I'm just working out how to illustrate how I want the rest of the plot to go. Stay tuned though!

I stirred in my slumber, eyes lifting at the sound of the crackling fire and the day’s first rays of sunlight travel through my window. The bed was warmer than it usually was and made more squeaky sounds than normal. Probably because it had to accommodate the weight of a 200 pound Witcher. I noticed the silk and satin sheets brush against my skin that were usually covered by my nightgown. It made me blush at the thought of what occurred in this bed only hours ago. I gently rolled to my other side, careful as to not disturb the Witcher from his slumber. 

“Good morning, princess,” his voice raspy and sleepy. Gods it was arousing. I remember my girlfriends rambling on and on how mesmerizing a boy’s sleepy voice would be. Having never experienced it firsthand, I now know what they mean. Geralt’s body leaned on his side, the duvet we shared only covering his groin area. 

“Good morning, Witcher. I’m surprised you were able to fit in this bed with me.” I inched closer to him and traced a finger over his muscular body, tracing through his chest hair and scars. I watched as his eyes glided down the smooth arch of my back and half exposed bum. Seeing him and I like this instigated a primal attraction inside of me. Me, a young 18-year-old princess getting fucked like a whore by a Witcher almost three times my age. Us. Being bred by him. Together, on my childhood bed, sweaty and dirty from last night’s affairs. Tussled hair and marks on each other’s bodies only the other could see. It made me shiver.

“I’ll have to say, it was the best bed I’ve slept in for years. And even then I let you have most of the blanket.” A small smile appeared on his face as he reached down to pull the duvet on top of me, noticing the sudden chill. 

“A true gentleman you are, Witcher.” He chuckled once more, pulling at my heartstrings. 

“Only for a lady as lovely and ravishing as yourself. You never told me you were a mage.” I felt puzzled for a moment before remembering I had cast a flame from my hands into the fire pit before we fell asleep.”

“I don’t look this way because I ascended, Geralt. I looked no different from when I entered to when I left Aretuza.” 

“How can that be? You’re trying to tell me this,” his large palm stroked my cheek, “is all natural?”

“This,” I cupped his own face with my palm, “is half nymph.” His eyebrows rose in surprise. 

“A mage, half nymph, half human? And they say I’m the freak.” 

I shot him a glare and lightly punched his arm despite knowing he meant the comment as a harmless joke. “Speaking of freaks,” I said as my gaze lowered. “I don’t feel much different from last night. I mean, I do feel different in that aspect but I don’t-“

“What do you mean by feeling different?” He asked quizzically. 

“Like,” I stirred a bit to prop myself up on my forearms. “When you have sex with a man for the first time and you lose your virginity. People say you feel like a new woman afterwards. Do you know what I mean?” 

“No, Ad. I don’t know what you mean.” I felt confused despite the cute new nickname he gave me. But didn’t he obviously have previous sexual encounters before this? Surely he had some inkling to what I was talking about. “I don’t know what you mean because I’ve never had sex with a man before.” His smart response earned another fake-slap from me. 

—

Though Geralt cracked this joke that both of them laughed quietly to, he couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of guilt. A misconception about Witchers is that they do not feel emotions. But that’s just a fallacy. Geralt could feel all right, it was just a matter of covering it up. Suppression. But for some reason around this girl, he didn’t want to suppress anything. 

Geralt felt guilty for taking her innocence so suddenly. Not that he regretted it, not at all. But perhaps there could have been a few things he could have done or said to make it less… raunchy. Little did he know that’s what made her feel absolutely smitten. The raunchiness of it all drew her to him, the same way he became attracted to her innocent, demure composure. 

Although, he still couldn’t shake the fact that a day ago she had just been in the embrace of naive girlhood. 

“Whatever,” Adelaide responded. “I don’t even believe in that virginity stuff anyway. Why is my worth attached to who I’ve bed? Men don’t face the same repercussions women do for being man-whores themselves. No offense by the way.”

Ouch. So that was payback for the ‘freak’ comment. “I suppose I deserved that.”

“You most definitely did.” The princess rolled on top of Geralt’s wide frame, her thighs straddling his. He was surprised she didn’t feel aches or bruises and in fact wanted more. Maybe, he thought, this is what she desires. “Teach me how to ride you,” she whispered almost inaudibly. 

His lips twitched into a smirk. “Have you rode a horse before?” She nodded. “It’s not too much different.” His hands gripped her hips tightly, positioning her right above his already stiff cock. “It’s important you relax, princess.” With a brief exhale from the both of them, he guided her entrance down his shaft. 

“Ah,” she hissed. “That feels different.” Her whimper made Geralt’s cock twitch. 

“It’s a different angle.” In a matter of seconds she enveloped him whole. “Keep your back arched.” Adelaide obliged. He couldn’t help but notice how this made her breasts protrude even more. 

“Oh, fuck,” the tip grazed her g-spot again. He made a mental note of her reaction to this kind of stimulation. It seemed like she reacted more to the feeling of being fully penetrated and contact with her g-spot, as opposed to her clitoris, 

Geralt’s strong arms guided her hips in the rocking motion he liked. Lift up, thrust down, sweep hips back, and up again. Once she got the rhythm and speed down, he withdrew the hands from her hips and placed them behind his head, enjoying the view of the young woman’s body as it worked to pleasure his. The real royal treatment. 

The view was just as pleasurable from her perspective. Adelaide stared down at her ruggedly handsome lover. She soaked in his beautiful features fixated only on her. Only on his princess. She didn’t care about her society’s attitudes towards women and their sexuality, or better yet; women sharing premarital sex. Fucking out of wedlock. The only thing she cared about was just the two of them in this moment. The way his large biceps flexed as she crashed down on him made her want to ride him harder. While her stamina had a ways to go, they spent the rest of the early morning moaning each other’s names like prayers.


	5. Chest

Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier trotted down the beaten path. The both of them had just spent a couple evenings at an inn after the Witcher slayed a Kikimora and earned the most coin he received from one job. Well. This week’s earnings only came close to the coin he got from the Bruxa almost two years ago. The memory made Geralt’s palm moisten. Images from that night began to float in his head and he struggled to suppress them: meeting the young princess Adelaide, deflowering her, and the early morning where they exchanged things no other human being knew about them. Geralt told her of his trials and mutations to become a Witcher, and she told him of the mental and physical injuries she endured while training to become a mage. Unlike Yennefer, he found out, Adela grew to be Tissaia’s favorite and was forced to carry out punishments to her friends for their wrongdoings. Most of all, he attempted to suppress the memories of their argument before he left.

“Please, Geralt,” the princess begged. “I want to go with you!” She took a hold of his arm after he stormed out of the castle doors. The pleading look on her face conveyed all too well her desperation for them to be together. But that would be against his better judgement. 

“It’s too dangerous, Adela,” his strength obviously overpowered hers and he yanked his arm away from her grip. 

“But Jaskier follows you around everywhere! And I’m a mage I can handle myse-“

“NO!” He cut her off. His booming voice caught her off guard. She shook her head in disbelief. The Geralt she thought she knew from last night would never speak to her in that way. 

A wave of regret overcame Geralt once he witnessed her reaction. His stature towered over her already, but once his angry yell left projected onto her she instantly seemed to shrink. “Is there somebody else?” She whispered so quietly he could barely hear her. 

“Yes,” for the first time his eyes didn’t dare to meet hers. He knew this wasn’t true but it was the only way for her to let him leave. “You are not a part of my destiny, nor I a part of yours, Adelaide.”

Her tears immediately stopped flowing. Of course there was another woman. How could she be so stupid as to let this man toy with her like this? Make love and then leave? She mentally kicked herself for not realizing it earlier. “Goodbye, Geralt of Rivia.” She turned on her heels and walked back to her castle. 

That was the last he’d seen of her since then. 

The sight of her leaving tore a void in his heart. He was just about to chase her into the castle before Roach bucked and they were on their way to the next town. 

He wanted her to go with him. But Geralt wasn’t a selfish man. He knew he couldn’t provide the type of life she wanted, the life she deserved. A life full of perfectly aged wine, silk sheets, and milk baths. Most nights Geralt was lucky if he could even afford a loaf of bread. It was better this way, he tried to convince himself. And yet the gnawing feeling in his heart wouldn’t go away. So he tried to drown it out with bottomless mugs of ale and strings of women. However, he couldn’t ever follow through with the women, and they usually left stifling laughter at his situation. Or lack there of… 

So yes. The great Geralt of Rivia has been abstinent for the last two years. Not by choice, he physically couldn’t do it and it killed him. Many nights the only refuge he got was the thought of his previous encounter with Adelaide, but that was only if he did it himself. 

The duo finally reached a tavern on the outskirts of Temeria. Jaskier found a relatively attractive woman and within minutes he was trying to serenade her with his lute. Geralt sat at a table in corner downing the last of his first hot meal in weeks. As he ate he overheard a conversation between the men nearby. 

“Aye, such a shame. Cintra ought to be careful, Nilfgaard already destroyed the kingdom of Brugge. It’s just a big fucken stain on the north now.” 

“Shame indeed. I lost all my pigs I kept there for the spring— I wouldn’t go near that place now even if you paid me.”

“That new king is a pig himself.”

Geralt’s ears caught mention of that particular kingdom above Cintra. “What happened in Brugge?” Geralt interrupted the two men’s conversation earning him sneers and glares. 

“What’s it to you, Witcher?” 

“I happen to have something of value there myself.”

“Had, Witcher. The key word is had. There’s shit all in Brugge now. Remember how glorious it used to be? Now it’s just a shithole run by a psychotic power hungry king.”

“What happened to the old king, and his family?” Geralt’s heart almost seemed to stop. He couldn’t process the thought of the glorious kingdom, one of the only kingdoms in fact, that had welcomed him. 

“They’re dead. Both King Mugler and Queen Desdemona flung themselves out of their window and splat into the streets. I reckon the two kids are both dead, but rumor has it their bodies were never found.”

“Shame! That young lass was a looker if I’ve ever seen one,” another man interjected making the two others laugh. 

Geralt’s blood boiled at their laughter. He would have stood up to punch him if the reality of the situation hadn’t hit him in the chest almost knocking the wind out of him. He simply refused to believe it. Adelaide couldn’t be dead. There was no way. 

The Witcher shot to his feet, heaving. “Jaskier! We have to leave now!” 

“But I just-“ Jaskier tried to plead as he was still flirting with the young lady. 

“Now!” Geralt barked. The tavern owner tried to stop him on the way out. 

“You need to pay for that Witcher,” the owner motioned to the meal Geralt had. 

“Ah. Here you go,” Geralt’s fist swung and made contact with the owner’s nose eliciting a satisfying crunch. It only mildly released his rage. The rest of the tavern erupted in anger towards the Witcher. “Jaskier I am leaving with or without you.” He huffed striding towards Roach. 

“Alright I’m coming!” Jaskier hopped onto Roach behind Jaskier leaving the angry crowd behind. “What was all of that about, Geralt?”

“Do you remember the kingdom of Brugge? The gala?”

“Oh yes and the girl you fucked? And you haven’t been able to get it up since?”

“Shut up, Bard. But yes, her. It’s likely she’s dead. Nilfgaard invaded their kingdom.I have to go see for myself.” 

“You know that’s like, right where Cintra is? And you know where we are right? We’re in Temeria? And you know that’s like multiple week’s worth of travel?”

“I know Jaskier.” Geralt said through gritted teeth.

“Listen I know you’re all about the Nomadic life but we just spent the last of your coin and-“

“There’s been talk of a Wraith south of here. I’ll get more coin from that job.” 

“If you say so, Witcher,” Jaskier replied with a small smirk. 

“This isn’t really a situation to poke fun at,” Geralt hissed. 

“Dead or alive, though I surely hope the latter, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the infamous Geralt of Rivia devote this much time and effort to someone. Let alone a female.” 

“Hm,” was the Witcher’s only reply.


	6. Palms

To be a nymph implies more than just being easy on the eyes. To be a mage implies more than a few words mumbled in Elder. To be human… well. To be a human implies exactly what it looks like at face value. Misery and betrayal. Blood turning against their own blood. I shake my head at the cynicism. But what can I say, these past couple years jaded my thoughts. My horse Abbot neighed beneath me as we rode down the Temerian plains as we couldn’t travel by the main roads should I be recognized. 

The lingering hunger gnawed at my stomach. It’s been ages since I had a hot meal consisting of more than fish and berries. Sadly, the next town was miles away in the distance and the sweltering heat made the midday trek unbearable. As cooling as the material felt, I peeled off the silk cloak draped over my shoulders and stuffed into the rucksack attached to Abbot’s saddle. It was one of the only things that followed me after the kingdom had been sacked. I want to keep it in the best condition possible, away from the harsh glare of the sun. It was a little piece of home. 

By the time afternoon had rolled around, Abbot and I discovered a small stream of water surrounded by forest greenery and rocks. A cool breeze gushed out of nowhere, and a patch of clouds hovered directly above the tall trees blocking out some of the heat. The overcast shadows made the scene look dark and eery, but my eyes were practically glued to the cool water and my ears enticed by the rushing sound. I scanned around the area for any signs of inhabitants. It looked like it hadn’t seen human contact in years. 

I dismounted Abbot and led him to a small tree where I could tie him to its trunk. Once the knot was secured I stripped myself of my tunic, undergarments, and boots placing them on a large rock near the stream. Stepping into the weather immediately began to make my body shake. My eyebrows furrowed. The water’s temperature wasn’t even that cold. Nevertheless, I quickly bathed. Scrubbing my body and making sure to dip my head under the water multiple times to wash away the grime. I chuckled softly at all those times I took my luxurious milk baths for granted. 

All of a sudden, another whistle of wind and crunching of leaves echoed around me. “Who goes there?” I called out into the distance. Silence. Starting to feel spooked, I lifted myself out of the stream and hurriedly dressed myself. I grabbed my dagger and sword, my heart thumping like mad.

Another gust of wind scraped my ear. My intuition fired a sense that there was something more sinister here. Under my breath I whispered an Elder spell of protection for myself and Abbot as I untied his restraints in case he needed to flee. Whatever this thing was that was taunting me meant harm. A ghoul perhaps? 

My knuckles flexed along the silver sword, ready to attack. Leaning my weight to my other leg I turned slowly. Towering before me was a wraith floating above the ground. Its sunken face heaving towards me. I found the blows of my silver sword against the monster were ultimately useless. The wraith summoned another gust of wind, this one harsher and almost felt like my skin was burning as I flew onto my back. My sword and dagger clattered out of my hands and onto the forest floor. Darkness began to swarm around me as the wraith stalked closer to my laying body. Shakily, I pulled myself up to stand. Mumbling Elder with fury at this wraith my hands glowed generating a bright, white flame hot enough to scorch a human into dust. My jaw clenched as I took a step closer to the wraith. With a deep breath my hands rose outwards, delivering a blast of white fire obliterating the wraith after its shriek echoed throughout the forest. In its place was a charred patch of grass, soil, and the decay of trees around it. 

The abrupt loss of energy caused me to stumble backwards and struggle to catch my breath. “Abbot!” I called to my horse, my eyes still focusing on the spot where the wraith became cremated in case it were to appear again. “Abbot,” I called again, beckoning him to come to me. “Ab-“ I turned around towards my horse. Expecting to see him by himself, my eyes widened in surprise at the mysterious silhouette behind him

The overcast shadow drifted into nothingness, allowing the late afternoon rays of sun to meet the chiseled face of the tall Witcher. 

—

“Adelaide,” the gravely tone of Geralt’s voice rumbled towards her. The distance between them spanned about 12 feet, but the Witcher could detect each of her features clearly. The tunic she wore clung to her damp skin outlining her figure. It was clear to him that these last two years had not treated her all too kindly as he noted the scar beneath her collarbone and the patches of purple decorating her wrist. Despite the marks and scratches tainting her soft skin, Geralt hadn’t seen anything more beautiful. Her cheekbones gleamed a delicate bronze against the sun. Either due to the prolonged hunger of being on the road or the simple shedding of baby fat from her face. Her brunette hair flowed longer than he remembered. It was no longer tucked in pearl-embellished pins. Geralt couldn’t help but admire the disheveled look. “You are a sight for sore eyes,” he said as he walked to where should stood frozen in surprise. The Witcher continued to drink in her features, his favorite being the accentuated curve of her hips. In his memory, her curves were already spectacular, but the natural cinch of her waist grew to be more pronounced. The dainty 18-year-old he stumbled upon all those moons ago stood before him as a full grown woman. 

“Don’t come any closer,” she hissed as he was now almost an arm’s length away from her. Adelaide’s hand began to glow with a small amber in her palm, her eyes narrowing at the Witcher. 

Geralt stopped in his tracks, jaw clenching and eyes suddenly wandering to the side. She still felt hostile towards him for the way he left her. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, Del.” The ember in her hand continued to blaze.

Adelaide huffed at his lax demeanor. Acting as if he hadn’t left her like a fool. Bedding her and making her feel special whilst he still had commitments to another woman. Adela shook her head. A million emotions flowed through her; spite, anger, resentment. In spite of the flames in her heart and hands she still couldn’t resist fluttering her eyes over the Witcher’s frame. He hadn’t aged a second. He still looked the beautiful White Wolf on her balcony wearing heavy black armor broadening his shoulders even more— same white hair pulled away from his face, same dazzling jawline, same muscular body, same veined hands. Same magnetic attraction in her gut. “Abbot!” Adela stepped forward in the direction of her horse until she felt a firm grip on her wrist, the fire still dancing her palm. She swallowed hard before lifting her head to face the Witcher. “What do you want, Geralt?” Her angry tone now replaced with somber exhaustion. 

“You’re hurt,” his eyebrows furrowed in concern, his hand thumbing the cut on her hairline from when she fell. Blood began to trickle onto her cheek. Adela glanced at the hand gripping her arm despite the hot fire beginning to turn Geralt’s skin red. If it bothered him he didn’t seem to show it. 

“I’m fine,” Adela pushed his hand away and tugged on his grip. It only grew firmer. “Please let me go,” she whispered. A single tear fell from her eye.

Longing bloomed in Geralt’s chest. He softly pulled her to face him and held her chin with his thumb and forefinger. He was surprised she didn’t shy away from his touch. The ember from her palm now distinguished. “I’m sorry, Adelaide. I never meant to hurt you.” Adela examined his facial expression, regret cascading behind his amber eyes. 

“You left me, Geralt. You don’t even know what I’ve been through,” the anger started to bubble in her stomach again and she yanked away from his grip with as much strength as she could muster. 

Geralt already missed his chance once. In the blink of an eye he pinned her to the nearest tree. Shit, he forgot how much shorter she was than him. They remained there for a moment, Geralt was unsure of what he would say to her. He had a million things he wanted her to know. His eyes flashed at her horse. She was traveling light and he could hear the hunger pangs in her stomach. They could talk later. “I have food, Adela. And water. And this cut needs to be tended to.” She only nodded in response, failing to meet his gaze.


	7. Voice

The heat and humidity had yet to surrender as Geralt and Adelaide sat in the shade under a large oak tree. The Witcher had given the ousted princess his last loaf of bread and remaining dollops of butter. She finished most of it within a minute. The ride back from the stream was awkwardly silent. Geralt had a million questions for her— where had she been this whole time? How did she learn to fight with a sword? What was she doing here alone? He ignored his yearning for answers. Geralt knew better than anyone how much of a nuisance conversations are when one doesn’t wish to speak. So he allowed her the time and space to open up to him. 

“So where’s Jaskier?” Adela popped the last morsel of bread into her mouth and licked the remnants of butter from her lips. She missed the fancy meat and cheese boards available to her when she lived in the castle. 

Geralt finished sharpening the rest of his blades and had even offered to clean Adela’s sword and dagger. She allowed him to do so. “He’s at the town center playing his lute for passersby in hopes of coin.” 

“Then why are you here?”

“I was tracking that wraith you killed for me.” 

“How much?”

“Barely enough.” She merely nodded in response. “How’s your head?”

The salve Geralt applied healed the wound quickly. Like Witcher’s, Adela came to realize, the nymphette blood coursing through her veins catalyzed the quick healing process. “Good.” Geralt grunted unsatisfied with her response. The Adelaide he remembered talked his ear off for an entire morning. “But you should’ve seen the other guy,” Adela’s lips curled into a small grin. 

Geralt couldn’t help but smile as well. The silence between them grew to be more comfortable. Tensions drifted away and both of them seemed to relax their shoulders. Adelaide took another swig of water from the flask as the Witcher watched the way her lips locked onto the rim. “Are you okay, Adelaide?”

She paused after taking a couple sips. Adela turned towards Geralt, a sad smile on her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead a sad sigh. “No,” Adela whispered. She was almost on the verge of weeping. 

“What happened?” Geralt’s body inched closer to hers, they now connected at the hip. The look on her face broke his heart. 

“A couple months after you left, the Nilfgaardian army attacked us in the middle of the night. They used this terrible black magic to poison the air. Many died, and when they arrived at our castle I conjured a portal for my family to get out of there. My parents pushed me and Augustus through it. I thought they had followed after us, but when we were on the other side my parents were nowhere to be found.”

“And where is Augustus?” Adela’s eyes rushed to the ground. The Witcher sensed her heart beat quicken and the scent of sweat from her palms. 

“Augustus and I roamed throughout the continent for many days,” she sighed shakily. He encountered a group of barbarians while I was in a town looking for clothes and food. Augustus made a deal with them, he would marry me off to their leader in exchange for them storming the gates of Brugge and helping him reclaim the throne.”   
Geralt’s visage stiffened in anger. Rage seethed inside him and all he wanted to do was slaughter the entire Nilfgaardian army, Augustus, and the barbarians. “After the wedding, he tried to force himself on me to consummate the marriage.” Adelaide could hear the gritting of Geralt’s teeth as she told him her story. “So I grabbed the dagger near the bed and buried it in his neck. When I told Augustus what happened, he became furious. He hit me across the face and of course I fought back. That’s where I got this scar,” she pulled her tunic down exposing the jagged gash beneath her collar bones he had noticed earlier. “Since I had killed them both, that made me their new leader. I wanted no part of their group, so I left and told them never to find me again. I think that was pretty agreeable to them. I planned on returning to Brugge immediately after that but I couldn’t bring myself to. So here I am, roaming around the Continent seeking my next place in life.” 

Her smile was still grim. Geralt’s heart became heavy with the news of what had happened to her. She had endured a lifetime of pain in only a couple years. But yet, he admired the strength she exuded from the way she carried herself. “I am so sorry, Adelaide.” Geralt wanted to kick himself for not grabbing her by the waist and mounting her onto Roach when he had the chance. Perhaps if he allowed her to run away with him, all this agony could have been avoided. 

“It’s not your fault, Geralt,” she said as if she could read his mind. 

“If only I had known, I would have ran away with you-“

“It’s getting dark.” She suddenly cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “We should probably go find Jaskier. He might be looking for you,” she stood up and climbed onto Abbot, leaving Geralt on her tails.

—

The trio entered the bustling inn, the scent of ale and musk hitting them immediately. Jaskier hadn’t collected as much as he had hoped, but it was likely because of the slowing economy he reasoned. Geralt collected his payment for slaying the Wraith, but only since Adela insisted he take the credit for it. After all, he had helped fed her and healed the gash on her head. If he had not been there, it’s likely she would have passed out from the loss of blood and extreme hunger  
Typically, Geralt and Jaskier would sleep outside to save whatever assets they had. But coupled with the rainstorm and Jaskier’s sniffling, they had no choice but to lodge in the nearest inn.

The Witcher approached the innkeeper, offering the earnings from the Wraith. The fat old man scoffed in response, “We don’t provide services for your kind, Witcher,” he sneered. Geralt’s mouth opened to give him a smart ass response but was interrupted by Adelaide. 

She approached the innkeeper, sliding off the hood of the thick fur cloak which had concealed her identity. A warm smile spread across across her face and a twinkle gleamed in her eyes. “Oh please, Sir,” she spoke to him in a soft voice as smooth as butter and as sweet as honey. “My friends and I are oh, so cold! We really are in great need of your help,” her voice dripped in compelling sweetness making the innkeeper oblige. “I would like to request three of your finest rooms for the night.”

“Of course my lady,” the innkeeper’s eyes were glossy and wide, under the nymphette-mage’s irresistible persuasion. “However, I’m afraid we only have two rooms available for the night.”

“I will take it. Free of charge right?” 

“Of course my lady,” the innkeeper responded. This made Geralt and Jaskier whistle, impressed with Adela’s skills. 

“I would also like to request, if you would be so kind, two mugs of your finest ale and a roast chicken for my companions here, as well as a glass of your oldest wine and a meat and cheese board for me,” she smiled at him. 

“Right away my lady,” the innkeeper nodded and briskly walked to the kitchen to prepare their food after handing her the two keys. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier nudged at the Witcher’s side. “Please tell me why we haven’t found her earlier.” The white wolf only rolled his eyes in response. 

—

Adelaide’s laughter radiated throughout the inn lobby like music. Her golden brown locks swaying and hands twirled flirtatiously around her second glass of wine. She had sat at the bar, talking with a gentleman who had offered her a drink. Geralt watched intently as the two of them chatted, the occasional ring of laughter here and there. “Another,” he told the server, slamming down the mug of ale on the table. 

“Hello,” Jaskier’s hand waved in front of Geralt’s face since it had been frozen for quite a while now. Geralt’s hand grabbed Jaskier’s wrist and flung it away from him with a glare. “Ouch! I was just making sure your face wasn’t broken. What are you even looking a- Oh!” A knowing, toothy grin plastered across the bard’s face. “You still have feelings for her, don’t you? And the sight of her sharing the same oxygen with another man who isn’t you makes your stone-cold heart ache?:

“Shut up, Bard.”

“You should tell her how you feel.”

“Hm,” he listened in on their conversation as the man leaned in to whisper in her hear. He had asked Adelaide if she wanted to accompany him to her to his room. Before she could reply to his offer, a 6’5’’ Witcher had grabbed his shoulder and hurled him into the wall. 

“Geralt stop-“ the Witcher took a hold of Adelaide’s wrist and yanked her upstairs to one of their rooms. Once inside, Geralt slammed the door shut making the entire inn rattle. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the petite girl huffing at him, arms crossed on her chest. 

“I could ask you the same,” she shot back at him. 

“Why are you flirting with men like that?” He took a step closer. Normally, she would feel intimidated and melt under him. Not today. 

“Why is it even any of your business who I want to associate with myself romantically?” Anger now seeped in her voice. 

“Because,” he was now dangerously close to her. His hot breath tickled her cheek and she caught a whiff of his scent— a deep masculine musk and the smell of the forest. Their lips were only inches apart. “I made you mine that night I climbed into your room. I took your innocence. I bred you.” His low voice melodically urging her to open up to him. To accept him. “Do not make a fool out of me by toying with the desires of other men.”

She fought against the urge, pushing him away from her. “You don’t own me, Geralt of Rivia. I belong to no man,” her voice attempted to boom against his.

This only made the Witcher smirk, approaching her once more he stroked the side of her face and soft hair. “Admit it,” he whispered in her ear. “My touch is the only one you crave. No other man’s filthy paws would even come close. You didn’t know it then,” he paused to chuckle. “Neither did I. But you were saving yourself for me.” His words made Adela want to mold herself against his flesh. She almost did before remembering why he left in the first place. 

“You have someone else,” Adelaide gritted through her teeth.   
“Del,” he took her small hand in his, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “There is no one else. I only said that so I could leave knowing you wouldn’t follow me.” 

“Why would you do that?” She asked breathily. 

Geralt closed his eyes for a second, ashamed that he hadn’t stepped up before. “You deserve better than what I was able to offer.” He didn’t need to explain more. Adela understood him. That seemed to be a common pattern, how well they understood each other without the need for words. “There is nobody else,” he assured her again. “I belong to you.”

“Are you going to leave me again?”

“Oh, princess,” he pulled her down towards the bed. “I am never letting you out of my sight.”


	8. Neck

Geralt’s weight pinned her to the creaking mattress. His head buried in the crook of her neck, lips and teeth leaving tender marks making Adela shiver. Her scent remained pure to him, only sensing faint fragments of his own scent from the last time they were together. She had not been with anybody either. 

He slipped the tunic over her head, her bare breasts now exposed to him. Adela moaned in delight as his chapped lips enclosed her nipple, sucking lightly. She hadn’t felt pleasure like this in decades it seemed. This alone could push her over the edge into an orgasm. The Witcher kneaded her breasts slowly, making sure to take his time. Everything inside him ached to ravish her right there and then. The desire burnt in his loins it almost charred him from the inside out. But Geralt repressed this need. He wanted to enjoy this moment with her and make it last. Tracing kisses down her stomach, he pulled down her cotton skirt that had already rode up to her waist. His head arched away from her. Geralt wanted to bask in the view of his lover’s vulnerability underneath him. Her widening eyes, blushed cheeks, and quivering lips added a look of innocence to her face which contrasted against the erotic position she was in: ample breasts distending from her frame and begging for his attention, her legs spread wide to accommodate him between them. 

Geralt leaned down to meet her lips once again. She welcomed him and wrapped her petite legs around his hips. Deep in their kiss, Geralt’s hand slipped between her legs bypassing the soft cotton covering her mound. “Geralt,” Adelaide whined quietly at the feeling of the Witcher’s calloused finger slide between her folds. The stimulation elicited even more traces of arousal and beautiful sighs from Adela’s mouth. She grabbed for his cock, freeing it from the restraints of his leather trousers. They came off in an instant. Throbbing and veiny, she pumped his member in her small hands.

“I’ve never felt a pussy like yours before, Adela,” Geralt’s whispered huskily in her ear. He dipped a finger inside her. In spite of their previous sexual encounter, her walls still clenched tightly around him. He growled at the thought of his cock burying inside her warm depth. But perhaps, he could take their night a step further. He leaned down towards her entrance propped up on his forearms. Geralt ripped the panties off her body with his teeth and pressed his lips against her wet sex. He flattened his tongue against her, and with slight pressure, licked up towards her clit. Her hips bucked in response to the pleasure. In return he threw her legs over his shoulders and secured her hips down with his strong arms. Geralt continued to run his tongue up and down, the sensation of his mouth and her arousal gliding across her skin made her hungry for him. “You taste divine princess,” he continued to eat her out whilst sucking on her sensitive bud. 

“I want in me,” she panted. The clit stimulation was nice, but all she could think about was him inside of her. Geralt chuckled, perhaps he should consider himself lucky to have a lover who adored penetration as much as he. “Please take me,” she begged.

Geralt swatted at her cunt before pulling himself upright, “Greedy little thing,” he said as he pulled himself upright. She wasn’t sure if he was addressing her or her pussy. But at that moment she couldn’t care less. Without warning, Geralt thrusted his full length inside of her. 

“Ahh,” she whined at his rough invasion of her. “Fuck,” she moaned sensuously as he fucked her without mercy. The friction and stretching inside of her made Adela’s eyes roll into the back of her head. He didn’t give her anytime to adjust to his girth, causing her to whimper and cry out for him. It felt like she was being split open. 

“You can take it, princess,” his hand wrapped around her neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure. Her breasts bounced in response to his vigorous thrusts into her. Coupled with her constricted walls, he would have cum within a minute. The slapping sound of their bodies filled the room, accompanied with Adela’s mewling and Geralt’s obscene grunts and whispers in her ear. The bed creaked from the force of their senseless fucking, each stroke hitting Adelaide’s g-spot. This was the feeling she craved most, Geralt penetrating her into oblivion and reaching the spot within her only he could indulge in. The look of bliss on Adela’s face signaled how much she enjoyed this. 

An idea came to his mind. His cock withdrew from her, making her basically sob at the temporary emptiness. “On your hands and knees,” he commanded and helped her to turn over onto her belly. She looked confused. 

“Geralt, what is this?” His only response was the deep thrust inside her once more, only this time from the back. Geralt’s palms pressed gently on her lower back, causing her spine to arch and for her ass to lift provocatively. A string of incomprehensible words spilled out of Adela’s mouth as he fucked her in this new position. Being bent over like this made her feel unbecoming, degraded, filthy. She relished it. And even better, it amplified the sensation of her lover’s deliciously enormous cock ramming into her. This way, she felt every vein squeeze inside her walls and increased the pressure on her insatiable spot. One of the Witcher’s hands slapped her ass amidst the torment and gripped the curve of her hip. Another collected both of her wrists and placed them behind her back. His princess was now face down into the pillow allowing her ass to stick up at him more. 

“You’re mine,” He groveled at her, fully dominating Adela’s body. “You belong to me.” When he didn’t hear a response his hand that gripped her body now held a fist full of her hair, yanking her head up. His thrusts now angled away from her pleasure spot. “Say it,” he growled through gritted teeth.

“I’m yours,” Adelaide mewled. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!” His cock bludgeoned against her g-spot again, causing her to constrict around him more than she already did. He sped up, now chasing his own orgasm against the feeling of hers on him. A few strokes later, he joined Adela on the worn mattress, panting and embracing each other. 

—

Adelaide’s head rested on the Witcher’s bare chest, one arm wrapped around her stroking her hair and the other tucked beneath his head. Her whole body molded against his perfectly like a puzzle piece, her leg draping lazily over his while caressing his chest muscles. 

“The second I met you I wanted to whisk you away in my arms and ride into the night,” he told her, breaking the comfortable silence between them. “But I found all I could do for you was hope that you would end up with a nice guy. Someone who treats you well.”

“And did I?” Her eyes rose to meet his, a playful grin on her lips. 

“I’m not the kindest creature to set foot on the continent,” he played into her teasing. “But I fancy myself one of the strongest. Meaning I can protect you from danger. I can provide for you. I can care for you.” 

The softness of his words touched her. A smile beamed on her face, “I wouldn’t want any other man to look after me than you,” she placed a kill on his jaw. 

“I want to give you this,” he tugged off the wolf medallion from around his neck. “This is yours now.”

“Geralt, I can’t take this away from you.” Adela almost choked on the sentiment in her voice.   
He placed the medallion on her neck anyway. “Don’t fret, I have another one in my rucksack,” he assured her, placing a delicate kiss on the top of her head. 

“Why are you giving this to me?”  
“Because I was already separated from you once. I vow to never let that happen again. That medallion is my only prized possession. Consider it a symbol of giving myself to you. On top of that, everyone will know you’re mine.” 

“Not like you could ever let me forget,” her eyes rolled playfully at the love they made earlier. 

“So don’t you ever,” he quipped and kissed her again.

“I wonder where Jaskier is,” she sighed against him, her frame sinking deeper into the mattress as sleep caught up with her.   
“Balls deep in a snack tray,” he chuckled at the copious amounts of food the three of them had ordered after Adela enchanted the innkeeper. 

“That makes the two of you,” Adela grumbled before drifting into sleep. Geralt held her closer and allowed himself to follow after her.


	9. Appetite

Safety. It had been years since I felt the caress of safety against my body. All those nights on the run only taught me survival. I don’t even remember the last time I had gone to sleep without being on full alert and practically keeping one eye open. But in the span of 24 hours my life had changed once more. The day’s sunlight beckoned me to open my eyes. Instead of the forest clearing I typically found myself in, I woke up to the Witcher’s smirking face hovering over mine. 

“Took you long enough,” he chuckled. “You’ve been saying ‘coffee, no sugar,’ for twenty minutes straight.” 

“What can I say, the breakfast maidens were quite forgetful,” I quipped and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

“Mm.” My eyes travelled over his bare body. Like the last time, Geralt had surrendered the majority of the thin wool blanket to me leaving a tiny piece for his… ahem, not so tiny piece. 

“Any monsters that need to be slayed today?” I turned to face him and allowed more of the blanket to cover his body. The new warmth between us felt pleasant. Intimate. My body nuzzled into his, our frames fitting together seamlessly. Though he didn’t say anything, I could sense his gratification in that moment. 

“Yes, actually. A pack of werewolves terrorizing a farmer’s cattle not too far from here. Probably a twenty minute ride if Roach has the energy to move swiftly today.”

“Why don’t I come with you?”

“After seeing you kill that wraith yesterday, I would. But this is a pack, who knows how many there could be. Forgive me if I ask for you to stay here, where you’re safe. I can’t risk anything happening to you.” 

Normally, I would feel agitated at Geralt’s overprotective manner. He knew I was more than capable. Perhaps it was the good night’s sleep and warmth that made me oblige. With a deep sigh, I nodded my head. “I suppose I could just stay here and play wife, tidy up a bit and see if I can go into town for some better sheets.” 

“Wife?” Geralt mused, cocking an eyebrow. 

Before I could have a chance to speak, Jaskier had burst into the room out of thin air. He had paused halfway inside, eyes widening at the situation he had stumbled into. Jaskier’s face panned to Geralt’s, then mine, mouth slightly agape. He took a second to evaluate the scene before his hands covered his eyes like a child. 

“IonlycameinherebecauseImhungryandIreallywantbreakfastbutIdontwanttoeatalone.”

I erupted in laughter at Jaskier’s overall juvenile tendencies, as if he hadn’t been in the same predicament himself many a time. Geralt didn’t share the same humor, but rather took advantage of the Bard’s shock towards the fact that he had found both of us naked in the same bed. 

“I was actually just about to have my breakfast, Jaskier, until you interrupted us” Geralt’s hand visibly slipped under the blanket to grab me seductively. With that, the Bard had grimaced and left the room, grumbling about how he’d eat on his own for today. 

“That wasn’t so nice,” I giggled under Geralt’s touch  
“Neither was the interruption,” Geralt’s lips devoured my neck hungrily, “I don’t think I’m done with you,” he breathed into my ear making me shiver, 

—

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Jaskier,” Adela fumbled herself into the seat across from the bard at the breakfast table. She had missed a button on her tunic and her long brown hair disheveled. Obviously from the activities he had found her engaged in with his longtime companion. 

“it’s not a problem, Adela, but um…” Jaskier motioned to the missed button. 

“Oh! My goodness, how unbecoming of me,” she grinned with slight embarrassment, adjusting the collar and buttons. 

“What’s all this?” Geralt emerged from behind Adela, gently pecking her on the cheek. Unlike her, his armor was strapped neatly to his body, not a hair or button out of place. He raised his eyebrows at the arrangement of breads, cheeses, meat, and fruit for the breakfast meal. 

“Breakfast,” Jaskier replied with a mouth full of food. 

“Have a muffin,” Adela offered Geralt a blueberry muffin, the scent wafting to his nose. Perhaps the farmer wouldn’t seem to mind if he was a few minutes late. 

The Witcher took a seat at the table next to Adelaide. “No butter?” He was only half-joking. 

“Butter please!” She called towards the innkeeper behind the bar. He replied with his usual answer, still under her enchantment. 

“You can take the princess out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the princess,” Geralt mused. 

“I don’t see why you haven’t lived in this kind of luxury this whole time,” Jaskier asked as he gobbled down a piece of ham. 

“A couple of reasons, actually. I avoid being noticed by passersby and I feel guilty swindling people out of their services,” she explained while taking a bite. 

“What makes this potbelly different?” Jaskier nodded in the direction of the innkeeper. 

“Well, barely anyone seeks accommodations here. And plus, he swindled my family and I first. It was a long time ago, perhaps I was around the age of 15 or 16 when I got back from Aretuza-“

“That would’ve made me-“ Geralt attempted to interject.

“Uh-uh,” Adela cut him off before he could continue with his lewd comment about the age difference. “But my father had been traveling back to Brugge with his men, only about a handful of soldiers. A severe storm had fallen onto their path and so they sought shelter at this exact inn. My father wanted to share his thanks by inviting him and his family to our castle for a meal. When they left, they basically took everything in their guest room besides the furniture. Sheets, silverware, what have you. All of it was gone. And the kicker is, we would have given it to them if they had just asked. Even an extra horse to help them with their haul. So consider this the universe’s karma.” 

“Hm,” Geralt grunted in satisfaction. “How long will he be like that?” 

“’Til I say,” she chirped, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I wonder why Yen never did anything like this,” Jaskier questioned out loud, earning him a dirty look from Geralt. “What?” He asked defensively. Geralt kicked him in the shin under the table. “Oh,” he nodded, realizing I was directly in front of him. 

“Who’s Yen?” Adela furrowed her eyebrows toward Geralt. 

He sighed deeply. “Yennefer of Vengerberg. I used to have… relations with her.” He eyed the bard to make sure he wouldn’t let any additional details slip. Jaskier’s eyes remained glued to the plate before him. 

“And she’s also a mage?” Adela asked quizzically, tilted her head slightly. 

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” Adela’s appetite sunk. She had pushed her plate of food away from her and folded the napkin in her lap onto the table. “Madame Tissaia only teaches enchantments like these to her more capable students. Yennefer of Vengerberg never performed them because she was never taught them. Hopefully you, Geralt, share the same taste as Madame Tissaia.” Adelaide’s jaw clenched as she stood from the table. “Excuse me.” And with that, she had turned on her heels towards the bedroom.


	10. Ears

The sun had begun to set and still there were no signs of Geralt. I had spent a majority of the day with Jaskier; we had went into the town to shop for clothes, jarred foods, and other miscellaneous items like herbs and soaps for the next journey. All those days on the road seemed to have paid off since I had enough coin and gold saved up to refresh our supply stock and even had more than enough left over. It took everything in me to restrain myself from entering beauty supply stores or the boutiques with nice hosiery. The jewelry shop’s window displayed the most gorgeous rose gold bracelet. It was quite simple, lacking any additional pearl or diamond embellishments, but nevertheless sleek and classy. I had stared at it for quite a while before Jaskier reminded me we should return back before nightfall. Shopping always helped for me to destress, especially after hearing news of Geralt’s former lover. I didn’t bother to ask the Bard anymore questions about her, hopefully Geralt would explain more tonight. On the way home, Jaskier tested out a few more ballads on me, and I’ve actually come to realize I’m pretty fond of his love songs. 

Once back inside the small bedroom, I had lit the candles I requested from the innkeeper and drew myself a bath in the small wooden tub. It was no porcelain milk bath, but it’ll do. I tossed in oils and cheap perfumed salts before stripping myself of my clothing and wading into the water. Thankfully, the innkeeper had arranged for the housekeepers to scrub the floors and sweep away dust from all surfaces. The room was overall less cluttered and a bit more presentable. My body sunk slowly into the warm water, scrubbing away at my skin and scalp. After a span of half an hour or so, the door’s lock clicked and Geralt entered. His eyes scanned the room slightly impressed with the face lift. 

“Got any room for me in there?” He smirked and raised an eyebrow at me. His armor was matted in blood, but he didn’t seem as scathed as I would have expected for him to be after slaying a pack of wolves. 

“No,” I replied bluntly, eyes closed and head resting on the ride of the tub. 

Geralt frowned. “Something troubles you.” He removed his armor and set it down in the corner. 

“Hm.” My ironic response elicited a deep chuckle. 

“You’re more mature than that,” his voice sounded closer, signifying that he was making his way over to me. 

“You said there was no one else, Geralt.”

“Yennefer and I haven’t seen each other in years.” Silence. “I thought I made it clear to you that I’m yours, Del.” The weight of the Witcher’s medallion seemed to grow heavier between my naked breasts. 

“I just don’t see why you didn’t tell me about this earlier.”

He sighed. “I suppose I should have.” Geralt knelt next to me, his breath almost tickling my cheek. “I hope you understand if romantic relations are not really my strong suit.”

“Romantic.” My eyes opened slightly, the single world rolling off my tongue sounding more like a question. 

“Admit it, you swoon for me, Del.” Geralt lightly splashed me with water, his lips curling into a smirk. 

“I believe this Yennefer of Vengerberg did as well,” I casually shot back at him.

“It’s cute how jealous you are.” 

“I’m not jealous,” my voice deepened an octave, like it typically does when I’m serious about something. Geralt sighed and leaned against the outer wall of the wooden tub, our heads pressed adjacent to each other while our bodies faced opposite directions. 

“I’ve always liked to think of myself as a man of few words but many women. I guess destiny had something else in store, because when I met you, I transformed into a man with many words only around only one particular woman.”

“The Great White Wolf has to recite a whole novel just to tell me that…?”

“That you’re the only woman I want in my life, Del. I’ve been around for ages. Decades. I feel alone when I’m not with you.” His words sounded like the sweetest, most solemnly serious love ballad I’ve ever heard. The sentimental moment made me grow warm. It was unexpected that Geralt would show such vulnerability like this. 

“They say Witchers can’t feel-“

“I love you.” Those three little words, that one short sentenced, escaped his lips like music. I turned my head to look at him, and his facial expression illustrated that he himself had not expected such an emotional confession. Surprised at his own transparency. 

“I love you Geralt.” I replied back to him. Perhaps the cold shoulder had exceeded its welcome. Geralt’s shocked expression was cute, endearing, probably in disbelief that for the first time in his life, he had told someone he loves them. And that they love him back.   
I placed an open-mouthed kiss on his lips and attempted to pull him into the tub with me. Of course he didn’t budge an inch at my failed efforts, rather guffawed and joined me. “Geralt, your clothes!” I shrieked as his presence rippled a splash, sending water everywhere. 

“They needed a wash anyway,” he leaned in once more to kiss me passionately as I tugged away at the soaked layer of cotton covering his body. “Oh damn,” he pulled away and reached into his trouser pockets. I tilted my head in confusion, waiting fo him to fish out whatever it was. After a quick second of fumbling, he had pulled out the bracelet that I had my eye on earlier today. 

“Geralt! How did you know?” I gasped in surprise. The bracelet was even more beautiful up close. 

“Jaskier might have mentioned something about it when I got back to the inn. It’s why I was out longer than expected. The farmer paid me quite handsomely for the werewolves,” his breathtaking smile made me want to combust. 

“It’s so beautiful,” I whispered as he slipped it onto my dainty wrist, 

“Only fitting for a princess,” he responded before removing the wet shirt clinging to his body. All the doubt I harbored about his feelings towards me spilled out like the water in the tub.


	11. Shoulders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I can’t believe it’s been this long since I’ve updated this story. I’ve reread it and I feel like Geralt is a bit toooo soft and his relationship with Adelaide is a bit tooo idealistic. I’m so happy to be writing again. Thank you for reading and allowing me to share the inner workings of my mind. :)

The journey to Temeria took multiple days. The summer days seemed infinite as the trio crossed the harsh terrain through sweltering heat. Adelaide, to Geralt's surprise, insisted that they must go visit a mage who assisted the royals of Temeria. Geralt questioned her motives out of concern for her safety. For two years she had been in hiding, why did she want to risk everything all of a sudden? 

Adelaide brushed off Geralt's persistent interrogation. “Triss and I trained at Aretuza,” she told him. It was only half the truth. "I just want to feel normal again. I haven't seen her since I was a young girl." Her gaze wandered and darted, avoiding his at all costs. 

Reluctantly, against his gut instinct, he agreed. Geralt was not sure if it was the utter exhaustion, or if he had done something to create this kind of aversion towards him. It bothered him when she would turn her back against him as they slept. When her kisses upon his face seemed to diminish. When she pulled away the second their hands brushed against each other. If it were any other woman Geralt had been with before, he never would have noticed. And it irritated him that it did. He would have greatly preferred a time when he wasn’t victim to his emotions and infatuations with this woman. He never imagined that he’d ever consider his actions in any relationship, much less with a woman. And yet. “If anything happens, Ad..." Gerald murmured under his breath.

"Nothing will happen," she would often assure him. "I promise." She looked up at him, the corners of her mouth upturned into a forced smile. He grunted, unsatisfied with her answer. There was something she was hiding. He could feel it. 

Jaskier had stuck around to accompany the princess and the Witcher. Day and night he would sing songs to perform at various inns and taverns for coin to supplement their journey. He sang at all hours. It was quite awkward whilst Geralt and Adelaide laid in bed together each evening. Other than that, it was enjoyable roaming the Continent with companions, something that Adelaide had not experienced yet. A lot better than being alone. A small twinge of guilt bubbled in the pit of her stomach as the days progressed. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this facade up, especially with Geralt as her lover. She felt like he could see right through her. She was constantly reminding herself that he wasn’t able to read her mind. She would be so screwed if he could. 

Other than the tensions about visiting this Triss Marigold for gods know what reason, Adelaide and Geralt grew to develop their mutually beneficial relationship. He would often skin bears and wolves they encountered along the way so she could use them as blankets and cloaks to keep her shoulders from trembling during frigid nights. Meanwhile she would practice spells and incantations to protect her traveling companions and ensure their camp grounds were always neat and orderly. 

Geralt began to show her how to hunt bigger game than the wild chickens and boars she was used to. The two of them would sneak off into the woods while the bard collected coin from the townspeople, and each time Adelaide felt excitement to be alone with the White Wolf. He was glad she still found a thrill out of hunting. It was something she did for fun, not out of necessity in the same way he’d been forced to. 

“Based on those hooves marks along the bush, what can you tell me about the animal?” He would quiz her, almost like one of her tutors she had as a child in the palace. Rarely did she answer incorrectly, for Geralt was a terrific teacher. She was attracted to the way he would educate her on topics of his profession without belittling her intelligence or capabilities. 

“A male deer… he seems quite large… was probably spooked by something a few paces away since he ran in that direction,” she whispered to him as they both crouched down behind the base of the tree, extremely close to one another.

“Good girl,” he smirked at her, impressed with how quickly she caught onto his instructions. 

This was how the rest of the hunt went; Geralt would take her through each step and continue to test her knowledge until the deer was thrown onto a spit and roasted over an open fire. At times, he would even instruct her on sword fighting in the unlikely event that she should engage in combat without him present. The training was difficult for her body to accustom at first. Adelaide’s respect for Geralt increased tenfold. How do Witchers survive on such minimal food, stay physically active, and retain extremely muscular figures? He only chuckled at her little questions but couldn’t help to notice how her back muscles broadened and her legs became more toned from the constant training. Though he didn’t say anything of it, Geralt admired her in all forms. He silently appreciated the new muscle added onto her figure. It made her stronger and expanded her endurance during their… activities. 

—

Eventually, Geralt halted his incessant questioning about traveling to Temeria. Money was good, they had managed to save enough to purchase new garments once they reached the markets. Perhaps all of those nights falling asleep to Jaskier’s ballads on the forest floor were worth it. This seemed to relieve Adelaide’s tense behavior too, he noticed. She was no longer grimacing when they spoke and she could finally look him in the eye. It didn’t matter, Geralt reminded himself. ‘As long as she’s safe with me, and I’m here to protect her,’ he thought to himself. 

Adelaide enjoyed being taken care of by her Witcher. Her life as a princess demanded specific tasks and obligations, a specific level of achievement as an honorable royal. One misstep and it meant her and her family’s reputation on the line. The last two years as a traveller forced her to remain in long stretches of anxiety. Now, it was nice to not have to think too much for herself. He provided and she received. It was… different than what she imagined her relationships to be, but she welcomed her submissive role in her relationship with Geralt. Perhaps she was obliged by the gifts he seemed to shower her with— freshly skinned furs, beautiful jewelry, including his precious medallion. It made him happy to see it gracing her neck each morning. Or wasn’t obliged at all. Her submission was completely voluntary. 

It wasn’t that she had to. There probably wasn’t any other man alive who could tell her what to do, besides her Witcher. And it wasn’t that she even followed exactly what he said… she just liked the way it sounded when his gruff voice ordered her around. Geralt, in her eyes, was the ideal man. Strong, yet gentle. Provided and protected. Worked many days, left her alone when needed, fulfilled every physical and sexual desire she could ever have. 

Hopefully he wouldn’t be too angry at her for keeping her motivations for traveling to Temeria a secret.


	12. Fingers

"The Great Tigress of Brugge and Heir to the throne, now travels the continent with a Witcher and bard?" Triss' cheeks glowed pink from her third cup of mead, still in disbelief of the tales told to her by her old friend from Aretuzza. "Never in a million years!"

As the trio arrived at a tavern on the outskirts of Temeria, Adelaide sent a telepathic message to her dear friend, Triss Marigold who was assigned as King Foltest's royal mage. Triss portalled to the entrance of the dingy tavern in an instant, amazed at what she saw before her. She didn't think it was real at first-- it was common knowledge that the sacking of Brugge led to the untimely death of the royal family, the potential heirs included. Rumors circulated the continent that the two siblings, Augustus and Adelaide, were still out there. Members of the Brotherhood held a meeting to discuss their next steps following the tragic attack on the kingdom and the disappearance of the royal sorceress. It was said that they didn't feel the spark of her magic die out, not yet, as it had with mages passed. Those who wanted track her were dismissed as conspiracists, Triss included. Many attempted to do so but to no avail -- even if the princess were out there, her magic was masked. Triss didn't know why Adelaide would make her magic untraceable, that was something she couldn't wrap her head around until she had met the princess in the flesh. 

"I disguised my magic and hid from the rest of the world for so long," Adelaide explained. "Nilfgaard wanted me dead. You know that there have been rumors of their black magic and chatteling their mages into slavery," the young woman shivered at the thought. "I couldn't risk them tracing me."

"You're quite the sorceress," her friend agreed. "A very powerful one at that. I'm glad you're safe, who knows what kind of sinister plan Nilfgaard is up to. Between you and I, their new mage Fringilla just gives me this terrible feeling. I understand your hesitations," Triss grabbed Adelaide's hand and squeezed it gently. "Why now?" Triss' eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She wanted to help her friend with whatever trouble was ailing her. Before Adelaide could open her mouth to speak, a loud clamor emerged from behind the bar of the tavern. 

Jaskier had been flirting with the young bar maid serving the patrons mead and bread. He wanted to make a good impression by assisting her with fetching another barrel of mead from behind the bar. He had obliged to do so, excited to show off his masculine strength. The barrel was a lot heavier than he thought. He regret his offer as it tumbled out of his hands and spilled across the floor of the tavern. The barmaid smacked him from the back of the head and chastised him, telling him to clean it up or pay her a barrel of orrens to replace it. He scrubbed at the floor, apologizing profusely to the barmaid. 

"Excuse Jaskier," Adelaide giggled in amusement. "He is quite the flirt and it often causes him much more trouble," she told Triss. Geralt grunted in agreement, his teeth tearing away at a cut of venison. He hadn't said much to Triss, only acknowledging her briefly on their first encounter. He was unsure of how to feel about her, whether she was trustworthy or not. Obviously, Adelaide seemed to take kindly to her. But he needed to stay cautious. Geralt still couldn't quite put his finger on why she had decided to reach out to her. Surely, it couldn't have only been for a gossip session over mead at a dirty tavern. 

"Jaskier may be quite the flirt but I see you and your witcher have grown quite the liking towards each other," Triss grinned at the two of them from across the table, eyeing the wolf medallion that hung over both their chests. 

Neither of them were fond of public displays of affection. Geralt wasn't really one to kiss cheeks or hold hands unless it was in private, between him and his princess. Professionally it just wasn't his stride. And the other point was that he simply wasn't used to it. As a royal, Adelaide was always taught to abstain from behavior that would be better found in a bedroom. Not that she didn't love her Witcher or wish to push a loose strand of hair away from his face every so often, she most certainly did in private, but it just wasn't her stride either. So it surprised them both when each of their hands were fully clasped together, their fingers intertwining underneath the creaky wooden table. Geralt, who was always so unfazed and collected, flexed his jaw in his surprise. Adelaide cleared her throat from the brief feeling of being startled. 

"My witcher," Adela mused. She cocked an eyebrow at Geralt who had finally brought his drink to his lips. 

"Really, there's this... unique aura around the both of you," Triss pondered out loud. "I'm not sure quite what it is but it's powerful. Overwhelming almost, really." 

"Sorcerers seem to say anything these days," Geralt stated dryly. No amount of beverage could wash away the deep growl-like rasp of his voice. It made Adelaide hold onto him tighter. 

"Sorceress," Triss corrected him, unoffended by the off hand comment. 

"Excuse Geralt too," Adelaide sighed. "I'm sure you can imagine how tiring my companions can be." The ousted princess shot Geralt a glare. 

"Of course," Triss smiled at her. "There's an inn just next door, you passed it on your way here actually. I'll make your arrangements. It's on the royal tab, of course." 

"You are so gracious, my old friend," Adelaide stood up to hug her before the royal mage turned to briefly consult with the barmaid about their accommodations for the night.

"Not sure how safe this is, Del," Geralt said lowly. "I'm not sure if I can trust her." 

" _I_ trust her, Geralt," Adelaide almost hissed at the witcher. 

"That's why I'm concerned," he murmured, his voice still groveling.

"Why don't you move Roach and Abbot into the stable of the inn?" Adela quickly changed the subject. "I'll help Jaskier clean up a little and thank Triss for her generosity." Geralt's mouth parted to protest before she assured him again. "You worry too much," she told him with a soft smile. "It's only a few paces away. You're within earshot." 

Geralt nodded and turned on his heels in a huff. Once he had exited the tavern, Adelaide rushed to Triss who had finished paying off the tab. "I need to speak with you. But quickly, we don't have much time," Adela grabbed the royal mage's arm and pulled her into the empty back room of the tavern in case Jaskier was able to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Adelaide, you're worrying me. What is this?"

"I need you to deliver a message to the brotherhood," she said with a level of alertness that made Triss feel panicked. 

"What message, Adela? And why me?" Confusion was still displayed on the curly-haired mage's face. 

"It's a message, not a request," the ex-princess said lowly. "Tell them that someone is planning on usurping the throne of Brugge, away from the current kind. But do not, under any circumstances mention that it is a sorceress, much less me, okay?" 

"What? You're planning on taking back your throne?" Triss looked at the young mage like she was absolutely mad. "Are you short of a few marbles?! You have no army, no navy, the last time I saw you, you could barely hold a sword! Triss exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "Don't tell me you're going to take back your crown with just a bard and a Witcher." 

"Neither of them know, actually. I've been planning it in my head for almost three years now, but I've been keeping it a secret. It's important that you tell the brotherhood that there are rumors of a _human_ executing these plans as not to alert them. You know how they are about rogue mages." 

"That I do," Triss said flatly. 

"This way, they'll dismiss it as an irrelevant, hasty revolution until I finally take back the throne. At that point I'll be powerful enough to where they won't dare intervene." 

"Is that what you're after?" The older mage inquired harshly. "Power? And what are your plans for your dear witcher? I doubt he has any desire to be a king." 

"My people are being worked to the bone as we speak. You've heard of what it is now! It's a poor excuse of a kingdom. It's not just about an ego-trip. As for Geralt," Adelaide paused. "I haven't gotten that far with my plan yet." 

"It seems to me that no part of your plan has gotten that far yet." Triss shook her head vigorously. "In good conscious, I cannot let you do this."

"Like I said, I'm not asking for permission."

"This is exactly why the Brotherhood tells us not to get involved in human politics like that! After all this, you want to do this just for _humanity? For people? After they slaughtered your mother and father-_ " 

"Enough." Adelaide cut her off. 

"I'm sorry. But people are all the same. There's no point risking your life for them. And for what? A few years after your revolution they'll grow contempt towards _you_. You could be the best damn ruler the land has known but there will always be someone who is planning your demise. That's just how humans are, my dear Adelaide."

"Everything was taken from me, and I demand to take it all back." 

"So it is about your ego. Don't you realize you already have everything?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sure, you may not have intricately laced bodices and bergamot perfumes like you once had...But that was only supposed to be a part of you for only so long. Do you not get it, you naive girl? Your destiny is with the Witcher, not at the helm of a kingdom." 

"How would you even know that?" Adelaide asked unamused. "You're a mage. Not a fortune teller."

"Anybody with the magical talent of shoe-leather can tell that there is something extraordinary between you and Geralt."

"So that's the cheesy aura you spoke of?"

" _Yes_ , my young sorceress. It is a certain, undeniable force between you and the Witcher. Fate had crossed your paths for a reason." 

"Well," Adelaide sighed. "As Geralt likes to say... To hell with fate." Before Triss could respond Adelaide had already left the room and stepped into the cool brisk of the night. Jaskier was nowhere to be found in the tavern. 

Adelaide mentally kicked herself. The lie she told Geralt would surely catch up with her as sure as she reached the inn. She rubbed her hands together for warmth as she walked to the rickety building she would call home for the rest of the night. Excuses played over and over inside her head, searching for what she would say to Geralt when she saw him. Adelaide was so consumed with her thoughts that she didn't hear the footsteps of the man behind her before he was close enough to cover her mouth with his hand, whisking her away into the shadows. 


	13. Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long this story will be... I definitely want to make a second part once I finish a few chapters in this series so look out for that!

I woke to dull, throbbing pains in various places of my body. My left temple, lower back, and left side all ached. I couldn't move or adjust my position to find any relief. Thick bands of rope encased my body to the trunk of a tree. I attempted to move again, frantically this time, but to no avail. My eyes fleeted open in panic. The simple dress I had on was torn up from the side, exposing my bare leg. The fur cloak Geralt had skinned for me was nowhere in sight, leaving me in the freezing cold. My eyes swept the landscape for signs of my captor. As far as I could tell, I was alone.

 _"Geralt! Geralt! Geralt, my love, where are you?"_ I thought to myself. The White Wolf was sure to be here somewhere. " _How long have I been tied to this tree?"_ I asked myself, still struggling against the constricting bonds. "Help!" I cried out, now screaming at the top of my lungs. "Please, someone help me!" 

"Adelaide?" I heard Jaskier's voice behind me. "Adelaide is that you?"

"Jask?" My heart began to thud with hope that we might escape this situation alive. "Jaskier, it's me. What happened? How did we get here? And who took us?"

"Thank Gods you're alive, Adela. "These two, huge guys came into the tavern. They came up to me directly and demanded my coin. When I refused, they dragged me by my feet. They took me from the bar and tied me to this tree. Then a few moments later the third one came back carrying you over their shoulder. You were knocked out cold, I almost thought you were dead."

"Then where are they? What do they want from us?"

"Dunno, they wouldn't say. I think they left to find Triss and Geralt since they were with us the whole night."

"And what did they look like?"

"I told you they were huge-"

"But what were they wearing? Black, gold, blue?"

"I could barely tell. They definitely weren't knights or anything like that. Their clothes were raggedy, torn." 

"Probably just a bunch of thieves looking for change," I hissed under my breath. "They probably noticed the bill we racked up."

"I don't see why they would go through all this trouble of kidnapping just for a few orens-"

"Times are tough now, Jaskier... If it's not coin that they're after, they could sell us to the highest bidder as servants." 

"Shit," he whispered. "Adela, I'm not ready to be a slave. Please, do something!" 

"I promise I will get you out of here, Jask," I assured him. An awful knot formed at the pit of my stomach. If I hadn't insisted on meeting with Triss in Temeria, Jaskier and I wouldn't be in this predicament. I mumbled incantations under my breath that would allow me to break through the thick truss of the rope. I shut my eyes in concentration. My efforts were almost there until I was caught off by a gravely, peasant-accent. 

"My, my, she's a pretty one. I reckon we can bargain for double the price. Forget the mage, we really did win the lottery with her!" A man appeared before me out of nowhere. He was large, bald and had two missing a teeth. A raggedy, overgrown beard almost reached passed his chest. He was accompanied by two other men who looked almost identical to him. Jaskier was right-- they weren't knights. They were starving commoners who turned to trafficking to put food on the table. My heart fell to my stomach. There was no sign of Geralt on the horizon. 

"Let us go," I shouted at him in anger. "Whatever coin you want for me and my friend, I will double it." The men only laughed. The sound was dark, terrifying, and sent a shiver up my spine. 

"I doubt a broke whore would be able to pay me even 2 orren," one of them sneered.

"Lying whore," the second one agreed. My fists clenched at my sides. 

"She's not a whore!" Jaskier shouted at the three men. "Leave her alone!"

"Nilfgaard better pay us handsomely for that one," I heard the leader snort. "He's been a thorn in my side all night," he grumbled and walked away to prepare the horses that they'd chain us to. I gulped at the sight of the heavy metal links that would inevitably lead us to our doom. 

"Jaskier, there's a knife in my pocket. I need you to distract them while I cut the rope," I whispered to him. "Sing to them or something, I don't know! Just divert their attention away from me." 

"I'll try my best... Adelaide?"

"Yes?"

"If we don't make it tonight or if we're shipped off to a far away place... I'm glad I met you-"

"Shut it Bard!" I whispered/yelled at him. "Nobody is dying. You'll fall asleep in a nice warm bed tonight and we'll laugh about this in a week from now, alright? Now you better start distracting them!"

I could hear Jaskier audibly gulp. "Uh, hey, guys... I figure if we're going to be traveling companions for a while, I was wondering if I could practice some scales? You know, it'll probably add some value and you could sell me for more money. I mean, I am a famous bard after all. You'll have bidders in Nilfgaard falling at your feet for me, but only if my vocal chords are up to par, don't you think fellas? How's this, do-re-mi-" 

One of the goons snarled his teeth in annoyance. My fingers continued to inch towards the knife until I finally felt the chill of the steel against my palm. I grasped it and began hacking away at the rope with as much silence and discretion as possible whilst Jaskier recited his scale. The goon approached Jaskier's side of the tree and kicked him hard in the shin. 

"No! Don't hurt him!" I cried out. The man turned around to grab a fistful of my hair. "I'd rather hear _you_ sing, pretty lady," he chuckled with an evil smirk. I felt sick to my stomach as he grabbed my exposed thigh. 

I had finally managed to break one arm free from the restraints. At almost the speed of light I swung the dagger at his neck. Blood gushed out immediately over half my body and face. I stood up, pushing his slumped over dead body away from me. 

"Fucking whore! Let's kill them both. This lass is more trouble than she's worth," the leader growled at me. I turned around to him swinging his sword at my head with his full might. My eyes closed, bracing myself for the inevitable darkness that was about to come. 

A second passed and it hadn't arrived. My eyes opened once more to see a flash of white hair. Geralt. 

His body stood between me and my captor, the axe in his hand blocking the kidnapper's sword from beheading me. My breath left my body and I couldn't seem to move. I watched with my heart beating like mad as Geralt battled the man who planned on selling me off like a sheep. They were both large and extremely skilled in combat; that was clear as they fought mercilessly against each other. 

The other goon stalked towards me. I ducked as he attempted to deliver a harsh blow against my shoulder. I didn't have a sword; only my small knife and magic. 

"Geralt!" I called out in the midst of our battle. "Aard!" He seemed to understand what I meant as I ran towards him at full speed. My legs wrapped around his waist and our lips collided, our arms outstretching towards our opponents to deliver powerful blasts at them. One goon was sent back with so much force against the tree that held the bard and I captive. He collapsed in an instant, blood running like a river from the open gash on his head. The leader laid sprawled against the patch of grass. 

My lips collided with Geralt once more as tears ran down my face. "You saved me," I breathed to him. 

"Are you alright?" His fingers gingerly brushed across the open wound on my temple, presumably where their leader had hit me to knock me out cold. "It's okay, just a dull ache." I assured him. 

"You stupid, stupid girl," he murmured at me with the shake of his head. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to find you earlier," he hugged me tightly, clenching my body against his as I wept. 

"Ay, I wouldn't be celebrating just yet." Our heads snapped towards the leader. He wasn't dead after all. Jaskier was being held at knife-point, the blade hovering inches above the skin of his neck. 

"Let the bard go," Geralt barked. Jaskier's eyes met mine, pleading us to save him. 

"Let him go and we'll let you live." An ember glow heated in my palm ready to send him to hell. 

The kidnapper chuckled, pushing the blade further into Jaskier's neck. 

"No!" Geralt and I cried at the same time, running towards them. Right when I thought that my dear friend's life would be lost, the leader's head burst like a pressurized watermelon. Geralt and I stopped in our tracks, confused at what had just happened. 

"Thank Gods for Triss!" Jaskier exclaimed. I turned around. Triss removed her red cloak hood. Her lips pressed together in disapproval. All of a sudden, the world began to spin. My legs gave out and everything turned black. 


	14. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this one! Then a little part two to the bodies series. :)

_"Get her to the inn!"_

_"No, it's not safe, there could be more of them."_

_"They knocked her out, probably as she was walking to the inn."_

_"She can rest at my house."_

_"Stay with me, Del."_

_"They were thieves from Nilfgaard. They wanted to sell_ us!"

_"Fuck! She's lost a lot of blood."_

_"Almost there, girl."_

Voices rang in my ears as I fell in and out of consciousness. Geralt's name left my lips so many times I could barely keep track. The only thing I could feel was the dull ache consuming my whole body. 

\--

I awoke in a cold sweat, my torso springing from the plush mattress that hugged my back for hours it seemed. My breath quickened as adrenaline rushed through my veins again. 

"Bastards! Where are they?" my head snapped from left to right to look out for the men who kidnapped me. 

"They're dead, Adela," Geralt's warm, deep voice comforted me. Remembering myself, I felt calmer. I turned to face him. He was sitting at my bedside, a warm rag in his hands filled with my blood. Concern was plastered all over his face. His arms guided me against the headboard of the bed so I could rest against it. I scanned the rest of the room. I hadn't been here before, but it was decorated well. Spacious, a mostly beige and red. A large hide rug sprawled across the floor near the roaring fire place. Jaskier sat on my left side, relieved that I was finally awake. Despite the recent attack, he sported a grin. As far as I could tell he was unscathed. Triss stood at the doorway, scowling. Our eyes finally met. 

"Where am I?"

"You are a guest in my home," the older mage said. 

"That's very kind of you but we have to get going know," I attempted to stand up. In instant, a wave of nausea and dizziness crashed over me. Geralt's strong arms gently pushed me back into bed. 

"You need to rest, Del," he said.

"Stupid girl," Triss mumbled. "Look at you, not even one day into your atrocious plan and you not only put yourself in danger, you've risked the bard's life as well." 

"I didn't mean for this happen." My eyes closed in regret. "It wasn't accident."

"You are so naive, Adela," Triss shook her head. "Don't you know fighting destiny is like swimming upstream? When you go against fate, it's like a magnet for ill will and misfortune. There is no king, queen-- _princess_ \-- that can outrun destiny. The more you fight it the more you hurt yourself. You're lucky that neither of you weren't seriously injured, all because of this plan-"

"What plan?" The witcher interjected. Triss and I maintained eye contact, neither of us daring to speak.

"Yeah, what plan?" Jaskier asked. 

"Someone better start speaking!" Geralt roared. 

"Come, bard. Let us leave them both some privacy. I believe her majesty has something to tell you," Triss said her and Jaskier exited the room. 

"Adelaide of Brugge, tell me your secrets at once," Geralt's eyes narrowed at me. "You've been acting strange for weeks now. You suggest risking your life to meet with a friend over mead, a sorceress from the brotherhood no less, then the same night you get kidnapped with Jaskier by Nilfgaardian low-lives? And what is all this talk of destiny and a plan? Adelaide, what are you not telling me?" He was practically bellowing at this point, his hands clenched around my upper arms. 

"I'm going to overthrow the king," I said through gritted teeth. For a moment, my Witcher was speechless. I opened my mouth to explain before he burst into laughter. It was hearty, deep, and rumbled through the both of us. 

"You?' He wheezed. "You and what army? Oh please, Del... you can't even take down a deer by yourself, much less a monarch." He looked at me with amusement. 

I shot daggers at him with a single look. "I'm one of the most powerful mages alive, Witcher. I can control men with just one smile, one bat of an eyelash and they're putty at my feet. It's what they deserve. "

"Is this why you wanted to see Triss Merigold? So she can help you usurp the crown?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, I don't need her help. She was to send a message to the Brotherhood, to let them know that a human was planning a revolution so they wouldn't get involved."

"I see you planned all of this out." His jaw clenched, the laugh disappearing from his face. "This is what you kept from me?"

My eyes failed to meet his gaze. "Yes," I whispered. "I'm sorry for my secrecy."

"Queen Adelaide of Brugge," Geralt said sarcastically. "I doubt Triss will be doing you many favors after tonight. And you should spend your energy apologizing to Jaskier before apologizing to me." 

"Perhaps Triss was right," I said bitterly. "Swimming against fate nearly cost his life."

"And your life."

I sighed. "How many more people must I put in danger for this crown," I said more to myself than to Geralt. 

"Hopefully none." 

"They took everything from me Geralt." 

"Then don't give them anymore." 

"Jask mentioned you have a way with discouraging acts of rebellion amongst those ousted from royalty."

To my surprise, he chuckled. I was shocked that he was taking my explanation in such jest. "If you run in head-first into the gates of Brugge, I will lose you. All of this will be for naught."

"I need to honor my parent's legacy. You heard it yourself, the first night we met. My father said I will rule the kingdom one day." 

Geralt shook his head. "If you _live,_ then so do your parents' legacy." 

I took a deep breath. "Perhaps you and Triss are right." 

"I hope you didn't plan on making me king." 

"I'm sorry." Tears welled in my eyes. "I was so lost in my own thoughts, my own ambitions for grandeur, that I failed to realize how much I need you by my side, Geralt. Especially after tonight," I confessed. 

"So you were planning on abandoning me? So you could rule as queen?"

"Honestly, that was something I thought I would get to after I had the king's head on a stick." I paused momentarily. "I would never want to abandon you. Though I believe I would be returning the favor, since after all, you _did_ abandon me-"

"Hush, love." Geralt pressed his forehead against mine. "Just tell me you aren't going through with this stupid plan." 

"You once told me that I am not a part of your destiny, Witcher, and that you are not a part of mine. Tell me, do you feel the same? His jaw flexed. No answer. "Tell me, at once, so I know whether or not to pursue this suicide mission." 

"When I saw the man grab you, I imagined all the different ways I would gauge his eyes out and feed him to Roach. When your fingers laced themselves between mine at the tavern, my heart beat faster than I thought possible for someone the likes of me. When you smile at me each morning, I forget myself. I forget all the pain, hardship, and torment I've had to endure throughout three lifetimes. And when I am near you I feel more man than beast."

"So the Butcher of Blaviken is also a poet I see."

"Do not expect anymore melodramatic confessions, my love."

"I would forfeit a lifetime of luxuries, power, and status just to be yours." My fingers instantly traced the wolf medallion he gifted me many moons ago. "Destiny or not, I am bound to you." 

"And I, to you, my princess." 

\--

"Thank you, Triss, I will heed your warning." We embraced briefly while Geralt loaded Roach and Abbot. My nymph blood accelerated my healing powers. As the roosters beckoned us awake in the morning, my wounds were cleared and aches subsided. 

"The king's time will come. But I'm afraid it is not your destiny," she whispered into my ear. 

"Then what is?" 

She smiled and gestured towards Geralt. He was loading his tools and weapons into his saddle bag along with food and water, grunting as he did so. "When the spheres collided, your names were written together in the stars."

"Written in the stars," I repeated. I smiled as I watched him. The beautiful man who promised himself to me and made sure I was always taken care of. Protected me, loved me, gave me reasons to exist. A brute in his behavior but never in his affection. Cold to everyone except for me. Maybe destiny did have a point after all. 

"This is where we part ways princess," Jaskier smiled at me. "King Foltest is in search of a royal entertainer. And by his lucky stars the greatest bard to ever roam this continent is on his land right this second."

"Oh really?" Geralt huffed. "Where is he?" Triss and I giggled. 

"Geralt, always a comedian for the ladies," Jaskier rolled his eyes. 

"I am so sorry Jaskier, for last night."

"You have nothing to be sorry about. I mean, maybe going against fate by storming the gates of Brugge was kind of a bad idea that probably pissed off the gods, but you did save. And you did deliver on your promise of making sure I'd lay in a nice warm bed at the end of the night."

"Well, we mostly have Triss to thank for that. Thank you, my dear friend, for everything." 

"Not a problem. As long as I know you're safe and not plotting to overthrow a king."

"Of course I'll be safe. I'll be with my beloved Witcher."

"Do I have your word, Geralt? That you'll keep my friend safe?" Triss called out. 

"You have my word, sorceress." 

"And do _I_ have your word, Geralt of Rivia?" Jaskier asked. 

"Yes bard," Geralt replied with annoyance. "You have my word. I won't let anything happen to her."

"I mean from the looks of last night I'm pretty sure she can handle herself. Until our next journey, your grace!" 

"You are strongest when you are together," Triss proclaimed. "I wish you well on your journey. Just be careful. Your womb is still intact," she whispered to me. I nodded. Unlike other mages, I didn't need to give up my ability to create life due to my nymph blood. "The chances are unlikely, they are there nonetheless." I nodded, understanding what she was trying to tell me. 

"Will you tell the brotherhood? Of my existence?" 

"Are you afraid of them? Are you afraid of Nilfgaard?"

"No," I shook my head. "You know the brotherhood is just a toothless organization, and if Nilfgaard wants me, they'll have to fight for me." 

"Headstrong like always. Write me, whenever you can. Keep your magic masked, and I will tell the Brotherhood in due time." I thanked her once again and embraced the both of them.

I mounted Abbott, waiving to Triss and Jaskier before riding off. "Written in the stars," I said to my companion as our horses bucked. 

"Hm," he smirked before galloping away. 

I smiled, chasing after him. 


	15. Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two will be coming up shortly!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: smut, degradation kink, dom geralt, breeding kink

"So this is it?" Geralt asked. Abbot and Roached came to a slow halt at the entrance to a forest. It was desolate, dark and thick with trees. Geralt looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Doesn't look like much," he said with hesitation. And he was right. At first glance, most people would think nothing of this neck of the woods. The nearest town was many nights away. For the most part, this piece of the continent remained untouched. Until the two of us arrived, at least.

I smirked at the Witcher, and with the wave of my hand, the trees began to bend at the roots. The branches twisted and turned as they created a parting large enough to give entrance to the beautiful villa that hid behind the dense trunks. "Glamor," I said to my companion.

We had been traveling together throughout the remainder of the summer. After leaving Triss' house in Temeria, Geralt would often find work following back roads. The money they earned was more than what the main roads would have offered, though typically more dangerous. The Witcher was in luck. For he had me by his side. I would play many roles throughout the monster-slaying process. Anything from playing bait, riding next to Geralt towards the beast in battle, to helping him heal once his coin was collected. We travelled as far and as wide as we could go. Often stopping along inns when there was money to spare, or camping outside and listening to the rustle of whatever forest we sought refuge in. No matter the venue, Geralt always found a way to take me. My favorite time was when I stopped to bathe in a stream. He emerged from behind me and ravished me from behind, tugging at my hair and pushing me over by the small of my back. Making love with Geralt was a pleasure wherever we happened to find ourselves, but I often craved the sweet embrace of soft sheets and a sturdy bed, unlike the ones provided at rickety inns. 

The house was beautiful and picturesque. It stood at two stories, built of beige and grey bricks. Geralt's eyes were drawn to the balcony and open porch at the front of the villa. All the windows were intact. I could feel him analyzing how safe this house would be for us for the next week or so of rest. "It's like a magical lock that only I have the key to," I assured him. He studied the intricate paneling and cobblestone path. Perhaps it reminded him of the castle he stumbled upon many years ago. 

"Family vacation home?" his tone dripped with sarcasm. 

"Something like that. My father had it built for my mother so that she would have somewhere nice to rest in case she was traveling," I explained. 

"And you didn't just hide out here this whole time?"

"Well, I was here for a while with my brother. I decided not to return after, you know, the incident." I paused to clear my throat. "I felt as though there was something greater out there awaiting me." 

Geralt smiled. A rare sight that I always appreciated. "Don't tell Jaskier this was ever an option." We road onto the pebbled path towards the entrance of the villa, our horses trotting against the multicolored stones underneath their hooves. I looked out at the overgrown weeds, mentally noting that it would be a nice day time activity to do some landscaping for the next month. 

"Sleeping by mother nature brings peace, no?"

"If that were the case Jask would have brought me peace by now," Geralt said as he dismounted Roach and tied him to the connected stable. "You've come a long way, princess."

"For almost four years now I've been on this journey with you, my wolf," I grinned at him sweetly. "Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon, I think the change is good." 

"Metamorphosis, indeed, little usurper." 

I rolled my eyes at his ridiculous nickname. "I thought I told you to stop calling me that." 

After we secured the horses to the stable, I grabbed Geralt by the wrist and ushered him towards the double-doored entrance of the villa. With a small utterance of Elven the doors unlocked to reveal the first floor of the forest home. It wasn't magnificent and grand like my childhood palace, but it was a cozy place to house us as the seasons transitioned from summer to fall. The first floor allocated a healthy-sized bedroom, fireplace, kitchen, sitting area, and bathing chambers. The attic upstairs housed extra pieces of clothing that my mother had stashed. My hands itched to get a hold of some dresses from my previous life. 

"Hm," Geralt scanned the set up. He seemed satisfied. He paced around each room, slowly observing and drinking in the place he'd call home until the first snow flurries arrived. "That'll be useful." He motioned to the unnecessarily large porcelain bathtub. 

I nodded my head, my eyes fixating on the clutter on the kitchen counter. It was from my last time I set foot here, about four years ago, when the sacking of Brugge occurred and my parents had lost their lives to save mine. My hands traced over the stack of papers, pens, and parchment that my brother and I had used to pack up food for our journey. Before I could drift off any further into my thoughts, I felt a warmth against my back and the lacing of Geralt's arms around my torso. 

"I hope it is to your liking Witcher."

"Perhaps I would've preferred a more black interior," he chuckled. It was true-- the furniture was quite feminine, consisting of only cream sofas and white cushions. Even the king sized bed was draped in ivory sheets and pillowcases. 

"Beggars can't be choosers," I chided, guiding him to the first bed we've seen in ages. 

"Who said anything about begging?"

\--

After two weeks of settling into the villa, Geralt and I fell into a routine. He would set out in the early morning, usually at the crack of sunrise, to either hunt or complete quick slayings. I, on the other hand, would wake up two hours later to a freshly brewed coffee waiting for me on the bedside table, courtesy of Geralt. I never enjoyed domestic duties in my previous life. I would often battle my nannies, mother, and ladies in waiting about my aversion to cleaning. Now, either out of necessity or boredom, I grew fond of dusting and scrubbing. I cleared out layers of cobwebs across the entire home, as well as ensuring the fireplace was working correctly. I installed candles at each corner of every room, created a fruit centerpiece for the dining table, and rinsed all the utensils from the cupboard. Then, as the day grew warmer, I would wander into the gardens and front lawn to pull weeds. Around lunchtime, I would find myself quite peckish and prepare a light broth with vegetables. I'd spend the rest of the day reading the many books my mother kept displayed in the sitting area or go through the attic wardrobe. 

Today, I decided to go through the clothing. Augustus had taken all the male tailored clothing with him. I decided to keep a handful of dresses there, just in case. I opened the wooden wardrobe and found a few beautiful dresses I would have often sported in my past life. They were gorgeous, dramatic, and definitely not conducive to the lifestyle I enjoyed now. Perhaps in the coming days, as I settled in with my Witcher, I would wear them instead of the tight leather trousers and plain tunics I often wore. Shrugging out of my plain floor-length burgundy dress, I shrugged on a tulle, flouncy, off the shoulder dress. It was a light baby pink and miraculously, still fit me like a glove. I twirled around in it, almost transporting myself back into a time where I was a giddy little princess. I don't need a kingdom to be a princess, after all. 

I dug deeper through the wardrobe until I found a matching lingerie set. My breathing hitched. This was something I asked one of my maidens to fetch for me at the markets, perhaps around my sixteenth birthday. I never got the chance to wear it. My mother, Gods rest her soul, was probably appalled after she found out it hanging in my dressing chambers and sent it here. I chuckled at her accidental foresight. 

The lingerie set was beautiful and delicate. It was a matching black laced corset and underwear to match. A single black ribbon laced through the middle of the corset and ended at a cute, pert bow at the top of the sweetheart neckline. I peered out the attic window at the gradual sun set. Nights were arriving much earlier now as the warmth fleeted. Organizing the rest of the garments, I scurried down to the kitchen to prepare dinner for tonight. Giddily, I hung the lingerie set in the bathing chambers. The large bathtub was already filled with rose petals, oils, and water. 

Yesterday morning, I had killed a wild fowl. Geralt butchered it earlier today for our supper later in the evening. I seasoned it with some garden herbs along with some potatoes and root vegetables before placing it in the fire oven to roast before Geralt arrived. I heard Roach's hooves approaching in the distance. With a whisper of Elven slipping from my lips, the forest gave way for the two of them to continue. I blew out some candles, only leaving a few lit to create a more... sensual ambience. Geralt's footsteps became louder as I readied myself on the sofa, sitting upright with my fingers crossed, a book placed strategically in my lap. 

The door creaked open to reveal Geralt, brooding and handsome, covered in selkimore guts. 

"You're home," I stated the obvious. 

He eyed my out-of-place, lavish dress pooling around my legs and torso, as well as the upside down book in my lap. I grinned cheekily. "Hello, my love. You look...." 

"Extraordinary?" I quipped with a sassy tilt of my head. 

"Regal." 

I stood up from my seat to place a soft kiss on his jaw. "Do you like it?" 

"Haven't seen you worn something like that in a while." 

"Like you say, you can take the princess out of the palace-"

"But you can't take the palace out of the princess." He smiled, his thumb brushing against my cheek. I smiled back.

"I have a bath waiting for you." I scrunched my nose at the scent of selkimore guts. "You need one." 

I led him to the bathing chambers. His cat-like eyes flitted towards the lacey lingerie set draping from the separator used for changing. I placed a palm on the side of his face so his eyes could focus on me. He smirked and began removing his armor and boots, then his trousers and shirt until he was completely bare. He raised his hand to shrug the dress off of my shoulders, but I batted it away. 

"You won't be joining me?" he raised on eyebrow. 

"Eventually. But I'd like to help you bathe first if you don't mind." He entered the bath with a soft grunt. He wide back rested against the edge of the porcelain tub, and his arms outstretched to lay on the edges as well. 

I pulled a stool up so I could sit behind him. My fingers combed out the matted dirt and excess selkimore guts, then moving onto shampoo his hair with a bar of rich soap I had bought from our last trip to the market. The dirt lifted easily, revealing his white, almost silver, locks of hair. He hummed in pleasure, relaxing at the brushing of my fingertips against his scalp. Once his hair was washed thoroughly, I added an assortment of oils -- lavender, tea tree, and jojoba, into the palm of my hand. I slowly added pressure to his neck and upper back. Delicious sounding grunts escaped his lips as my fingers loosened his tight muscles. 

"I think it's your turn, my love," he growled once all of the knots were worked away. 

Stepping backwards and pushing the stool away, I shrugged the tulle dress off my body and stepped into the hot bath. I shifted so that my back was against Geralt's hard chest, our bodies melting into each other. Geralt showed me the same treatment-- shampooing my hair and massaging the knots out of my back. I gasped at the firmness of his hands against my back. Soapy lathered hands drifted away from the nape of my neck and made their way to my breasts. I shuddered at the blissful feeling of his strong, calloused hands sliding with the lubrication of the soap against my sensitive skin and nipples. 

"Do you remember our first night together, my wolf?" I whispered under my breath, my body molding against his like a puzzle piece. His stiffness pressed against the small of my back and I smiled softly to myself. 

"When I bred you," he stated, his voice dripping with amusement. 

"Don't be lewd," I playfully scorned.

"Don't be cliche," he chided into my ear, a low growl-like whisper. 

"When you saw me across the room and our eyes locked," I feigned seriousness, obviously joking at the semi-typical romance. "Oh, and you knew I was the one, didn't you, Geralt of Rivia?"

"When my fingers brushed against yours and my mutated heart quickened like the hooves of a race horse," he went along with the joke, causing me to giggle. He splashed my side with the bath water, taking me by surprise. 

"Geralt!" I screeched, splashing him back. I jolted away from his body, rushing to the opposite side of the tub to face him. His deep, hearty guffaw rattled through me. 

I approached him again, on all fours with a sweet, seductive smile on my face. His eyes darted to my heave of my breasts obeying gravity as I crawled in between his legs. He smirked down at me. I couldn't help but notice the glossy beading of the water traveling down his abs and chest. My lips leaned in to kiss them, slowly, eliciting devilish, throaty groans. His hands met my breasts once again, massaging them gently and pinching lightly at my nipples. Tracing kisses down his torso, I finally reached his sharp, muscular v-line. 

"Would you mind if I kneeled forward, love?" he asked me. 

"Wait," I placed a hand on his solid chest, stopping him from shifting. My other hand skidded down, underneath the level of the water, to grasp his hard cock. My eyes darted upwards to study his reaction. His eyes bore into mine, jaw flexing. Underneath the water, my hand began to stroke him with great vigor. He responded in low grunts, his eyes squeezed shut. 

I continued my rhythm and increased the vigor once I noticed his hands gripping the sides of the porcelain, knuckles almost white. A low growl escaped his lips once he reached his climax. Geralt's essence spurted into my hand before escaping into the water. 

His chest heaved in deep breaths at the high. "You must be starving," I smirked at him, despite knowing he wanted more. "Come, let's eat dinner."

"I already did," he huffed. "And you were supposed to be my dinner." 

\--

Geralt and I finished dinner quickly. He was quite hungry, which was clear as he scarfed down the vegetables and roasted fowl meat. He was dressed in a plain black shirt and trousers which I had found in the wardrobe earlier. A thin, cotton robed hugged my body atop the bustier from the lingerie set I had also discovered. We finished our food with a glass of aged red wine and decided to finish it by the fire place for some warmth. Fall was in full swing, and we could definitely feel it. 

The fire crackled as we conversed about our day, the wine in our glasses depleting as the conversation wore on. We sat on the fur hide rug, savoring both the warmth of each others bodies and the fireplace, as well as full bellies of food and wine. He told me about how he had killed the selkimore, and I told him about the garden and the lunch I prepared for myself. He chuckled to himself in the midst of my explanation of my favorite vegetables to roast. 

"What's so funny?" I asked. 

"My whole life, I never quite understood people's fascination with domestic life." 

I grinned. "Neither could I. If you told me a few years ago that I'd be scrubbing and cooking, I wouldn't believe you."

"Perhaps we have tamed each other, little usurper." I eyed the empty glass, the remnants of wine slightly staining his inner lips a darker shade of red. "But now I understand."

"Hm?"

"After a long day of work, a man just likes to come home to a beautiful woman in a stunning dress with a bath and supper prepared." He paused for a second, as if he was hesitant about the words he was about to say. "Feels like home." 

My smile grew wider at his words and my heart soared. "I'm glad you like the villa, Geralt."

"No. Not this place." 

"What?"

"You. You're my home. I've come to realize that home is not a physical place, but a person."

"I hope you don't expect me to always be Suzy Housewife, though," I chided. "I quite like accompanying you on your quests, from time to time." 

"Of course, darling. It's just... thank you for taking care of me." My insides grew fuzzy at Geralt's warm, kind words of gratitude. My arms wrapped tightly around his neck in a tight, sincere embrace. 

"It's the least I can do." I whispered into his ears. "You take care of me more than I take care of you," I admitted. He attempted to hush me, but to no avail. "You've protected me this whole time. You've saved my life more than I can count. You keep me warm at night, allowing me to hog the blanket. You let me use your chest as a pillow when we have to sleep on the ground. You give me the last sip of water and last morsels of food." I pulled apart from him to look into his eyes, our foreheads pressing against each other. "I owe my life to you." Tears threatened to pour from my eyes at the thought of the trajectory my life has taken in the last few years. I've lost everything, only to gain something greater. 

"You owe me nothing," he assured, placing a gentle peck on my lips. _You've brought ease to multiple lifetimes of loneliness_. 

"What?" I said out loud. His eyebrows knitted together. 

"I didn't say anything." 

"Yes you did." I pulled away from him, incredulous at what had just occurred. "You said, 'You've brought ease to multiple lifetimes of loneliness.'" 

His expression showed even more confusion. "Well, I thought that in my head, but I didn't say it out loud... How did you know, Adela? Don't tell me you learned a new mind-reading spell-"

"No," I shook my head. "I was never able to..."

 _What the absolute fuck,_ I thought. 

Geralt's eyes widened. "Fuck!" 

"What?"

"I could hear that in my head as well." 

A memory emerged to the forefront of my mind. "Geralt, do you remember when we were in Temeria and Jaskier and I were kidnapped? How did you find me?"

"I heard you calling for me out loud. Why?" 

"But I never said your name, only in my mind's voice. I called out 'Geralt, my love, where are you?'," the realization started to settle in. 

"Yes, I heard that but I thought you were screaming it from the place they had taken you to."

"What am I thinking right now?" I asked. _I love you, Geralt of Rivia._

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You said you love me." 

"Perhaps we are mindreaders after all," I told him. 

"I remember hearing myths about it as a child in Kaer Morhen. Vezemir caught me reading a book about soulmates. Once they're together, this telepathic sense between the two of them occurs." 

"Perhaps that is what Triss was trying to tell us about in Temeria," I suggested. 

"They're very rare." 

"You don't think we're soulmates?" I asked, half-joking. 

"Of course I do, little usurper." He placed a long, sweet kiss on my cheek. "No one's ever made me feel the way you do. We fit together like puzzle pieces," he growled before devouring my neck in sultry kisses. 

"Speaking of fitting together," I pulled away from the Witcher to stand up. He looked at me with wonder. My hands untied the robe to reveal the heavily-detailed lace corset and matching bottom piece. 

Geralt's mouth opened in surprise, almost watering at the sight of me. I giggled at his face expression. He definitely wasn't expecting this. Hungrily, he pulled at my wrist to lay me on the soft fur in the fire's projected heat. Geralt traced open mouthed kisses all over my body, thoroughly appreciating his surprise. His hands roamed everywhere- touching, squeezing, even a light slap to my hips and upper thighs. After he was satisfied in his exploration of my body and showed lots of appreciation for the lingerie, he pulled away slowly. 

"These look amazing on you, little usurper, but I think they'd look better on the floor." 

\--

Geralt's hips bucked wildly against my heated core. He knelt in front me while I laid on my arched back, legs wrapped around his torso as he pounded me into the mattress. He held my hips in place, ravishing me like an untamed, feral animal. The sounds he made surely seemed like it. Lewd grunts and growls echoed through the villa to accompany the sound of glistening flesh slapping together. My mouth remained opened, moaning, almost singing, along to Geralt's voracious fucking. 

I noticed the sliver of orange peeking from the horizon. We really had been fucking for the whole night. Geralt noticed this too, smirking like a devil at me. I had been on my hands and knees for hours. Not just on the bed, as we took the liberty of testing out each piece of furniture and surface inside the home imaginable. Geralt, though sweet and romantic earlier, apparently couldn't wait to fuck me like a whore. 

He took a liking to degrading me, whether it was in the form of spanking, a light slap across the face or filthy comments about what I was doing for him. He relished at how wet I became at his actions and words and continued his sadistic pleasure. 

My whole life I've championed myself as a progressive woman, supportive of the advancement of females. But I couldn't help but roll my eyes to the back of my head as Geralt's hand connected to the soft bounce of my cheek in a semi-aggressive slap. It wasn't painful, but stung enough to bring tears to my eyes and tighten the coil in my lower belly. He grabbed my left shoulder, turning me onto my stomach. Geralt, as was I, quite the fan of doggy-style. 

"Usually I have to pay whores to pleasure me for this long," he groveled. The low bass of his voice made me want to erupt. "But here you are, my filthy slut, doing it for free." I closed my eyes, immersing myself in the burning pleasure of Geralt's huge cock pummeling my g-spot. He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my face up from the pillow it had burrowed in. "What are you?" he barked.

"Your pregnant little whore," I squeaked. Geralt's cock stiffened even more at the entertaining of his breeding kink. For a sterile Witcher, he took great sexual satisfaction in pretending as though he was implanting his seed in me (if that wasn't obvious enough by his overly-suggestive comments). My walls constricted around his. 

He turned me over again, not losing any stamina as he railed into me. "I want to see you cum," he growled. He leaned over me, the tips of our noses touching as I released my sixth orgasm of the night. He spilled his essence inside me as I milked him for everything he had. I bit my lip at the sight of his face contorting in pure bliss. My eyes darted down towards where our bodies met. For some reason, this orgasm felt different than the other ones. 

Geralt collapsed onto me as I observed the heated coil in my core grow even more, despite my release. It felt blistering hot, almost on the verge of painful, but still felt like heaven. Several minutes passed as we tried to catch our breath, smiling and panting at each other without exchanging a word. 

Instinctively, my hands flew to my lower abdomen, followed by the cradling of Geralt's large ones. At the contact of his skin, the heated coil vanished into oblivion. 

"Please tell me we can do this the whole winter," I begged him slightly, never wanting to lose the warmth of his body. 

"I've got a better idea," he said. A post-coitus high made the smile on his face beam. 

"Hm?" I wondered aloud. 

"Come with me to Kaer Morhen." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over yet! Second part of the series will be up soon! Let me know what you think:) I love you all.


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